


See You in Hell

by orphan_account



Category: Banjo-Kazooie Series, Conker's Bad Fur Day
Genre: Multi, Rareware
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2012-11-22
Packaged: 2017-11-19 07:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kazooie thinks Bottles will never be a hero, until Evil Bottles kidnaps both her and Jiggywiggy and holds them hostage in Hell.  With Banjo off at Tooty's wedding, it's up to Bottles and the disciple to come to the rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kazooie was not the sort of girl who liked weddings.  They reminded her of all kinds of unpleasant things-- primarily simpering sisters and cousins who wanted nothing more out of life than to be a nestwife and hatch a brood of kids.  Then of course there was the fact that marriage ceremonies bored Kazooie to  tears.  This ensured that she was not a happy breegull on the sunny morning she and Banjo set off for Bottles' house in the Banjo-mobile the Lord of Games had given them.  They were on their way to pick up Bottles (which made Kazooie quite grumpy) before driving to Hailfire Peak for the wedding of Banjo's sister, Tooty (which made Kazooie even grumpier).

"Do I _have_ to go?" Kazooie asked for the fourth time, sticking her head out of Banjo's backpack as they bumped along the path towards the Jinjo Village, near which Bottles lived.

"Yes, Kazooie," the honey bear said patiently.  He had dressed up for the occasion, going so far as to wear black slacks instead of his usual shorts, along with a bowtie.  "You're a bridesmaid, remember?"

"I wish I could forget," grumbled Kazooie.  That made the situation even more annoying.  It also didn't help that it was _Tooty's_ wedding-- Banjo's sister was not one of Kazooie's favorite people-- and that it was being held on the icy side of Hailfire: Kazooie still had nightmares about dead aliens and Yetis with giant feet.

"Well, if I have to go," she snapped after  a moment of silence, "does _Bottles_ have to come?  Why can't he get a ride with someone else?"

"Because he wouldn't go if I wasn't making him."  Banjo glanced over his shoulder at Kazooie; she felt slightly sorry for giving him a hard time when she saw the sad look on his face.  "You know how he feels about. . . uh, relationships and stuff.  He said the last place he wanted to go was a _wedding_.  But Tooty would be really hurt if he didn't come."

"Yeah, I guess."  Kazooie sighed and slumped back into the backpack, bemoaning the fact that Banjo was too nice for his own good-- the kind of nice that meant he did what was best for his friends, even if they didn't like it at the time.  If it had been up to Kazooie, she would have left Bottles at home.  After all, if he didn't want to go to the stupid thing, why make him?

_Because he needs to get out,_ her conscience declared. . . a conscience that often sounded a lot like Banjo.  _He's been all alone in that house for years, and he's hardly left it since he got back from Showdown Town-- doesn't even go to the bar anymore.  He needs to be around people-- and he needs to see a happy relationship for a change._ Even Kazooie had to admit that it _was_ a happy relationship-- Tooty and her fiancé Moggy were perfect for each other.  It would do Bottles good to see them together and to be reminded that all marriages didn't end the way his had done, with Mrs. B walking out and taking the kids with her.

_It must've really hurt him_ , Kazooie thought reluctantly.  _For so many years, he just disappeared from our lives until L.O.G. brought him to Showdown Town, and then he lied to us about what really happened-- like old Curlers and Coffee would let Grunty run her over.  But then.  . . why should Bottles tell **me** his secrets?_  She knew it was a good question, especially considering how she had felt when Bottles had finally admitted the truth that his marriage had collapsed.  Kazooie had been _happy_.

They had reached the Jinjo Village, which Banjo skirted on his way to the mole's house.  Bottles had stayed there even after his wife had left him and taken the kids, but this was the first time either Banjo or Kazooie had been there since Banjo-Tooie.  Kazooie's sense of foreboding grew as they approached the burrow.  _I don't want to do this.  I don't want to go to a wedding with **him**. . . ._

Banjo parked in front of the burrow and hopped out of the car.  There was no answer when he pounded on Bottles' wooden door, and Kazooie poked her head out again hopefully.

"He's not home.  Let's go!"

"Kazooie. . . ." Banjo sighed, then knocked again.

To her dismay, they finally heard the mole call, "Just a minute!" from within.  The door finally opened to reveal a flustered Bottles in a black jacket, struggling to tie his necktie with his awkward claws.

"Aren't you ready _yet_ , Beetle Breath?" Kazooie snapped.  "We're already late."  Of course, she didn't care if they _never_ made it to the wedding, but she was quick to seize on any opportunity to pick a fight with the mole.

Bottles glared at her through his glasses and turned away, gesturing over his shoulder at the duo.  "You might as well come in.  I'll be ready in a minute."

Kazooie looked around curiously as Banjo shuffled in.  The house had definitely fallen into disrepair over the years.  It wasn't just a messy bachelor's (and bachelorette's) pad like Banjo's was; it showed signs of definite neglect.  Besides the papers, books, and bits of machinery lying around, the dirt walls had crumbled in places, and the ceiling looked as if it were in a losing battle with gravity.

"Geez, think this place is messy enough?" muttered Kazooie.  Banjo tried to shush her, but Bottles heard anyway.  He gave her another annoyed look, then turned his pointed nose back downward as he continued to struggle futilely with his tie.

"Uh, can't you fix your tie in the car?" Banjo suggested after a moment of that.

"No!  I have to see how this one looks so I can change it if it doesn't match--"

"For crying out loud!"  Kazooie extracted herself from the backpack and stalked over to the mole, glaring.  "Tooty'll be a grandmother before we get there at this rate."  She shoved Bottles' hands aside with her wings and tied the necktie herself, muttering in aggravated little clucks.

"Kazooie--"  She glanced up at the mole when he spoke, then immediately regretted it.  The surprised and grateful look in those absurdly magnified blue eyes embarrassed her.

"Let's go," grumbled the breegull, turning back to the backpack.  Banjo had picked it up and was rummaging through it.

"Hey Kazooie, where'd you put the camera?" he asked, poking his square nose into the bag.

"I didn't put it anywhere," she snapped, her frustration at Bottles edging into her voice.

Banjo extracted his nose and gave her an exasperated look.  "I told _you_ to put it in the backpack so you could pack it where it wouldn't be in your way."

"And I told _you_ there wasn't room, so you'd have to put it in the car!"  Kazooie threw her wings into the air in irritation.

"If you did, then I didn't hear you."

The breegull narrowed her green eyes at him.  "Are you accusing me of lying?"

"L.O.G. forbid," Bottles muttered sarcastically, his whole head turning back and forth as he watched the argument.

Banjo sighed in a strained way.  "No, Kazooie.  It doesn't matter _whose_ fault it is; we'll just have to go back and get it."

" _What?_ "  The thought of bumping and jolting all the way back to Banjo's house was too much to bear.  "Why do we even need the stupid camera?  I'm sure Tooty'll have a billion of them, and Mrs. Boggy's going to have a billion more, and--"

Banjo gave her a look that made her stop short.  "Kazooie, it's my sister's wedding," he said brusquely.  "I know you aren't happy about it, but this is important to me.  You can wait here with Bottles while I go back to the house, but please, don't cause trouble this time, all right?"

If anyone else had said it, Kazooie would have exploded, but coming from Banjo, the words only made her feel guilty.  She was aware of Bottles staring at her in amazement when she muttered, "Fine.  I'll wait here."

Banjo nodded, then went back to the car without another word, leaving the backpack with Kazooie.  As she heard Banjo start the car and drive off, Kazooie was painfully aware of being alone with Bottles.  She glanced at the mole, only to find him looking back.  They glared at one another and both looked away.

_Why him?_ she wondered gamely as she resolutely turned her back on Bottles and stared at a shelf of books instead.  _Of all the people I **could** be stuck with. . . ._   Kazooie clenched her beak and traced the spines of the books with her eyes.  _And he's probably thinking that **he's** stuck with **me** , the one who always causes trouble. . . the one who was happy when Curlers and Coffee walked out on him because I was jealous of her. . . ._  
  
"Uh, Kazooie?"

The breegull jumped a little and squawked, " _What?_ "

"Does the tie look okay?  I mean, the color and all?"

Kazooie sighed and half-turned to look at the mole again, who was watching her hopefully.  The tie _did_ look okay-- in fact, Bottles actually looked. . . well, cute.

"You're wearing a black tie with a black jacket," Kazooie declared, turning away again.  "Even you can't screw that one up, Goggle Boy."  Attacking him made her feel a little more in control, as if she _didn't_ think he was cute or like it he when he looked at her like that.

"That's easy for _you_ to say, Chicken Legs-- you don't even wear clothes!" Bottles sniffed, sitting down in an overstuffed armchair that was quickly becoming understuffed thanks to a hole in the fabric.  "You could have at least put on a necklace or something."

"You just love telling me what to do, don't you?" Kazooie grumbled as she idly read the titles on the shelf.  "Just because you gave me a few moves one time. . . .   When you get good enough to be the _hero_ of a game like I am, _then_ you can boss me around."

"I _am_ good enough!" snapped Bottles.  "I know _all_ the moves, after all.  It's all L.O.G.'s fault for not giving me my own game!  Why, if he had let _me_ fight Gruntilda, I. . . ."

Kazooie tuned out the mole's rambling when her eyes were attracted by a bright yellow tome on a particular section of his bookcase.  Craning her neck downward, Kazooie read the book's title: _Hero Moves for Dummies._   The book was well-worn; its spine had even cracked from frequent reading.  Next to it was _The Complete Idiot's Guide to Being a Hero_ , an unauthorized biography of Mario and Luigi Mario, strategy guides for every _Final Fantasy_ game ever (which collection continued over the next three shelves), _101 Surprising Uses for Feathers_ , and _Starkweather's Guide to Murder Weapons_ published by some company called Valiant Video.  ( _Probably where Jamjars got the idea for grenade eggs,_ Kazooie thought.)

The breegull gave a squawk of laughter, interrupting Bottles' tirade against L.O.G.

"Now what?" Bottles griped at her.

Kazooie could hardly speak for her snickering.  "Y-yeah, you-- a hero!" she cackled.  "When you got 'all the moves' from a bunch of books!"  She turned to smirk at the mole, who was staring at her through his glasses and blushing vividly.

"Th-those are old!" he protested.  "And I've hardly looked at them-- they belonged to Speccy anyway!"

"You lie about as well as Klungo conjugates verbs," Kazooie chortled.  She leaned over and tapped Bottles on the nose with her wing.  Her bad mood finally showed promise of lifting now that she really had a way to take it out on Bottles-- a way to humiliate the mole who had caused her so much embarrassment, and a way to squelch her feelings for him.

"You'll _never_ be a hero, Beetle Breath.  Everything you ever taught me came out of your little library here-- and anyway you probably couldn't do a single one of these moves yourself if you tried!"

Bottles spluttered angrily, but Kazooie pressed on before he could get any words out.  "And what kind of hero hides underground all by himself, anyway?  One who doesn't want to admit that he has no social skills whatsoever?  Even your shrew of a wife couldn't stand you!"  She jabbed his chest hard with her wing.  "You're a failure-- a complete failure!"

The mole only stared at her as she drew back.  Kazooie looked triumphantly into his magnified blue eyes, waiting for him to launch back a torrent of insults in return. . . and then she saw those eyes tear up.  Every crumb of her self-satisfaction dissolved instantly, leaving her feeling absolutely wretched.  She had only intended to make Bottles mad: hurting him wasn't what she wanted at all.

"B-bottles--" she stammered, for once completely speechless.  But ultimately, it didn't matter: after only a few seconds, a wall slammed down behind those glasses, and Bottles' pain turned to anger.  No, fury was more like it: Kazooie _had_ wanted to make him mad, but this was more anger than she had ever seen in him before.  In fact, it was more than she had ever seen in _anyone_ , even Gruntilda.

He didn't yell at her or even raise his voice, but the seething tone in his words gave her a chill.  "I have more 'social skills'-- and more friends-- than a raucous bird who doesn't know how to communicate beyond insults."  He narrowed his eyes-- now downright icy-- behind his glasses.  "And I thought you _were_ my friend, too-- but now I know that you hurt everyone who ever cared about you."

"Th-that's not true!" Kazooie cried, actually taking a step backward from him until her tail feathers brushed the bookcase.  "Banjo--"

"Hmph."  Bottles gave a mirthless laugh.  "Did you see Banjo's face when he left?  You can't even be nice to _him_ at the most important event of his life.  In fact. . . I'm amazed that he even puts up with you anymore."  
  
Kazooie tried wildly to think of a rebuttal. . . but she couldn't. _He's right,_ she thought miserably. _I was even mean to Banjo-- all because I wanted to hide my own feelings._

Before she could think anything more, something strange about Bottles caught her attention: something like a red glow surrounding him.  Kazooie blinked and rubbed her wing across her eyes as the mole continued his cold, furious judgment.

"I hope the Lord of Games _does_ give me my own game someday. . . and that he makes _you_ the villain.  Then I'll have the pleasure of shutting your wretched beak for good."

The threat sailed right over Kazooie's head; she was too busy gawking at her tormenter and marveling at how his voice had begun to sound strange, as if there were two Bottles talking at once.  Then, as she watched, she understood why.

A second Bottles _was_ rising over the head of the first: a horned mole glowing bright red, a mole she had seen before.  As the original Bottles finished speaking, the newcomer echoed his last words, then hovered above him silent and grinning.  
 _  
_"Uh, B-bottles. . . ." Kazooie stammered, feeling her heartbeat accelerate in her feathered chest.  The original Bottles glared at her again, but the fury was gone from his face; he only seemed tiredly resigned to her as usual.  Then he blinked, noticing the red glow cast onto the floor about them.  The mole tilted his head up, started, and yanked off his glasses to polish them hurriedly before shoving them back on and looking again.

"Wh-what?" he squeaked up at his doppelganger.  "You-- you can't exist!  Not unless I'm. . . dead."  Bottles gave an audible gulp, but Evil Bottles only laughed maliciously.

"Oh, of course I can," he chuckled down at both of them.  "I don't need you anymore, now that you've freed me."

"But _how_?" squawked Kazooie.  "Before--"

"Before," interrupted the spirit, "I was born from the anger of your short-sighted friend's spirit at what the witch did to him-- I wanted revenge, so I followed _you_ , Chicken Legs, and the furball to help you reach Gruntilda and defeat her."  
  
"Oh. . . ."  _So he isn't really Bottles, not at all.  And I thought that when he teased me, flirted with me that. . . that it was **him**. . . ._

"So where'd you come from now?" Bottles spat, beginning to grow more bold.  "I don't want you here!"

"From a much greater anger," Evil Bottles grinned down at him, ignoring the last statement, "because you still want revenge, am I right?"  He gestured at Kazooie with his red claws.  "You said yourself you want to kill her."

Kazooie gave a cluck of aggravation.  "Thanks for reminding him, Pitch."

"I didn't mean it!" Bottles dissented.  "It was. . . I wasn't thinking."

"You were letting _me_ talk," crowed the spirit.  "Letting me voice everything you'd held in for so long, your hatred for Fleagirl here because she always insults you, humiliates you."  Kazooie waited for Bottles' rebuttal, for his declaration that he didn't hate her-- but it didn't come.  Bottles only stood there, looking bleakly up at his dark side.

"I'm here," Evil Bottles finished, "to get revenge again-- not on the one who killed you, but on the one who's always put you through Hell."

For the first time since the whole ordeal began, Kazooie felt a bit scared.  Evil Bottles had been mostly harmless to her and Banjo before-- but now he was different, meaner. . . scarier.  _I really did make Bottles angrier than Grunty did, if E.B. is so vicious in wanting revenge on me.  He. . . really must hate me._

"Go on then," she growled up at Evil Bottles to cover up her worry.  "If you want a fight, fine."

"A fight is hardly satisfactory," the spirit sniffed.  "If it's anything like your fights with the witch, that mincing Lord of Games will just resurrect you until you defeat me.  I have other plans."

Kazooie tensed, expecting L.O.G. to call down some kind of retribution on Evil Bottles for the "mincing" comment, but apparently the Lord of Games was otherwise occupied.  Instead, E.B. swept down suddenly from the ceiling and scooped Kazooie up, grabbing her with one thick arm around her waist.

"Hey, _put me down!_ " Kazooie screeched, struggling and pecking at him, but he didn't seem to feel it at all.

"Wait!" the real Bottles cried abruptly.  "What-- what are you going to do with her?"

"Don't you worry your myopic little head about it," cooed E.B., not paying the least bit of attention to Kazooie's struggling.  "Just consider yourself avenged-- go have fun at your best friend's wedding."

"N-no, give her back!" demanded Bottles.  Kazooie stopped wriggling and stared down at him in surprise. 

"Oh no, you're not getting all the fun for yourself!" retorted Evil Bottles.

"I don't want revenge!  Just-- just give her back!"

E.B. glowered down at his counterpart.  "It's too late!  I'm sick of your love-hate feelings for this vulture anyway-- I'll get your revenge for you _and_ get rid of the problem."

Kazooie felt her face grow warm under her feathers at the mention of Bottles' feelings for her-- even if she got the idea that they most often leaned towards the hate side.

Bottles' cheeks flushed too, but he looked only at his doppelganger, not at Kazooie.  "Please. . . don't-- don't hurt her!"

Evil Bottles just turned away with a roll of his eyes and floated to the burrow's door, Kazooie in tow.  She thrashed again desperately, trying to grab for Banjo's backpack as they passed it, but it was out of reach.  Then she gave a squawk of actual fear when E.B. opened the door.  There was no dirt outside, no earthy smell of the underground: instead there were flames, intense heat, and a faint whiff of sulfur.

"Let me go, let me go!" Kazooie shrieked, pecking wildly at Evil Bottles' head.  _He's-- he's taking me straight to Hell!_   She supposed that being an evil spirit meant that he could do such things, for the scene outside the door could be nowhere else-- not even the lava side of Hailfire Peak in a heat wave.

"Stop!" Bottles wailed at the same time, dashing for his doppelganger as fast as his short legs could carry him.  "Kazooie--"

"Grow a spine!" Evil Bottles growled, apparently completely fed up.  "You wanted to get rid of her, and I'm doing it for you."

"Tell Banjo to come rescue me!" Kazooie cried to Bottles over E.B.'s shoulder.  Bottles stared at her, and E.B.'s grip grew even tighter.

"Kazooie!"  Bottles made a final leap for them, closing his claws over her wing.  But Evil Bottles snatched her away and out the door, leaving the mole with a handful of red feathers.  Kazooie felt her eyes tear up and told herself it was from the pain of getting an impromptu plucking.

"Bottles--"  She was cut off when Evil Bottles slammed the burrow's door, leaving his counterpart on the other side of it.  Kazooie could see the mole's face through the window for an instant, then the door faded into a wall of flame.

\--

To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

 Evil Bottles were gone, the real Bottles stood at the door a long time, even after the flames outside had faded to his familiar, earthy surroundings.  The only thing he could think at first was, _What am I going to tell Banjo?_   That Banjo's best friend had been kidnapped and, presumably, taken to Hell all because Bottles couldn't control his temper?  And that now Banjo had to rescue her?

Bottles even surprised himself with the answer when he finally turned away from the door and looked blankly down at Banjo's backpack. _I'm **not** going to tell Banjo._   That was absurd, of course: Kazooie had specifically asked for Banjo to rescue her (and even more absurd was how angry that request had made Bottles), and besides, there weren't any _other_ heroes around to do the job.  And how was Bottles going to explain away the breegull's sudden disappearance, anyway?

No sooner had Bottles asked himself these questions, the answers fell into place.  _I'll send Banjo on to the wedding, and **I'll**_ _rescue Kazooie.  That'll show her that I really am a hero!_

The honey bear returned soon after Bottles had decided.  Banjo knocked on the door again, and Bottles opened it to find the bear armed with a camera slung over one shoulder by its strap.

"Kazooie left it over the fireplace," Banjo explained, seemingly cheerful again.  "Are you two ready to go now?"

"Uh. . . ."  Despite his resolve, Bottles found it hard to lie.  "There's a. . . slight problem."

Banjo sighed.  "What'd Kazooie do this time?"

Bottles motioned for the bear to step inside.  "We kind of. . . got in a fight, and she ran off."  Amazingly, once Bottles started to spin his story, it came more easily.  "Kazooie said she wasn't going to any wedding, especially not with me, and that even you couldn't make her."

"That sounds like Kazooie all right," groaned Banjo.  "I'll have to go find her--"

"No, I won't hear of it!" Bottles declared.  "It's late enough as it is, and Tooty would never forgive you if missed even a moment of the dinner tonight."  
  
"And _that_ sounds like Tooty," Banjo agreed.

"You go on and start out for Hailfire Peak in the car.  _I'll_ find Kazooie and convince her to come-- knowing her, it'll probably take me apologizing to do it."

"I suppose," Banjo said doubtfully.  "But Tooty won't like it if you're late either. . . ."

"We'll get there in time for the ceremony," promised Bottles, hoping that this wasn't a bald-faced lie like the rest of it.  "It's not until tomorrow, and we can use some of Jamjars' tunnels if we need to.  Anyway, between Boggy and Groggy there won't be enough food at the dinner to feed Kazooie and me."  He tried a weak little chuckle.

"Well. . . all right."  Banjo gave in, though with some reluctance.  He reached for his backpack and started to sling it on, then he turned and held it out to Bottles instead.  "Here, you and Kazooie might need this."

"Th-thanks," Bottles stammered.  He took the backpack and put it down diffidently in front of him.  Banjo gave him a wave goodbye and climbed back into his car, then drove off bumpily.  Bottles sighed and pulled off his glasses to mop his brow, hoping he hadn't made the biggest mistake of his life.

\--

Before doing anything else, Bottles changed his dress clothes out for his usual jacket, then carefully packed his suit into the backpack.  This he looked at dubiously for a long moment before picking it up and settling it onto his back.  It wasn't nearly as heavy as he had expected, though it was a little large for him.  Bottles fumbled with the straps until he got them adjusted to a shorter length, then he took a deep breath.

_I guess I really am ready to be a hero now that I have the backpack._   Bottles gave one last look around his burrow, his eyes falling on the shelves of hero books.  _Should I. . . no!_   He wasn't about to take along any of the books that had caused the whole problem in the first place. _I know them backwards and forwards anyway.  It's time to stop studying and start putting those moves into practice._

Bottles locked the front door of his burrow, then passed through Speccy's room on his way to the shortcut between the burrow and the Wooded Hollow.  He bit his lip as he entered the small room; it was exactly how Speccy had left it when Mrs. Bottles-- Edna-- had moved out with the kids.  Bottles tended to avoid visiting both Speccy and Goggles' rooms, but this time it couldn't be helped.

_I've got to get to the Wooded Hollow quickly to see Master Jiggywiggy.  He knows more about doors and opening them than anyone else, so surely he's got to know how I can follow Kazooie to-- er, down there._   Bottles resolutely climbed up into the sunlight of the Wooded Hollow without giving a single glance back to his empty home.

Wooded Hollow was as lovely as the last time Bottles had seen it many years ago.  The only differences were that the grass was slightly taller and that there were no Gruntlings or Gruntdactyls around now that Gruntilda had been imprisoned in the Lord of Games' factory-- apparently her minions were as glad to be rid of her as everyone else, and they had wandered off to better lives.

Across the Hollow's open area, Bottles saw on a plateau the immense jiggy-shaped building that housed the Temple of Jiggywiggy.  The mole shouldered the backpack more squarely and started hiking towards the temple.  However, as he climbed the stairs set into the plateau and leading to the temple, something seemed out of place.  Only when Bottles reached the temple's closed door did he understand: the doorman wasn't there.

Normally, Jiggywiggy's disciple-- a shorter, brown-clad being much like Jiggywiggy himself-- guarded the temple's door.  The disciple's job was to keep out the riff-raff more or less, only letting visitors in for audiences if they brought an offering of jiggies for the priest.  The more often visitors returned, the more jiggies they needed.  Now, however, there was no sign of the meek disciple.  Even though Bottles hadn't been to the temple in ages, he knew something was amiss: the disciple had _always_ stood there in the daytime, always.

Bottles walked up to the door and knocked on it timidly, then pounded with more force.

"Hello!" he called.  "Master Jiggywiggy!  Please open the door; I need your help!"

There was no response at first as Bottles kept pounding-- he even started to wonder if Jiggywiggy and the disciple had gone on vacation or something.  But then, finally, the heavy stone door began to roll upward, and the sun glinted off the golden head of someone inside.

"Master Jiggywiggy, thank goodness!" Bottles panted.  "I need-- . . . oh."  He bit back a moan of disappointment when he realized that it was only the disciple.  "Please, I need to see your master!  I don't have any jiggies, but it's an emergency!"

"M-master Jiggywiggy isn't seeing any visitors today," the disciple stammered, a slight waver in his voice, which was normally a little hoarse to begin with.

" _Please_!" wailed Bottles, not considering that a hero would be more likely to keep his voice under control.  "You don't understand; my-- my friend's been kidnapped and--"  He broke off in amazement when the disciple gave a wail of his own.

"Erm. . . is something the matter?" the mole asked.

"Y-yes-- I-I mean, no, but... but Master Jiggywiggy is-- i-indisposed right now!"  The disciple moved closer to stand in the doorway; now that the sun shone on his golden, jiggy-shaped head, Bottles saw that his wide brown eyes were full of tears.

"He isn't dead, is he?" Bottles blurted out; as always, he assumed the worst.

" _No_!" gasped the disciple with a look of horror.  "He. . . ."  The brown-robed creature looked around nervously, then whispered to Bottles, "He's been kidnapped too!  By this horrible-- short-- horns-- red eyes-- it. . . ."  The disciple trailed off and looked Bottles up and down.  "Erm, actually it looked a lot like you."

"It wasn't me!" protested Bottles indignantly.

"Oh, don't worry!  I know _you_ ; you're our neighbor," the disciple assured him.  "But. . . ."  He sniffled faintly, despite not having a nose.  "But. . . but did that same. . . _thing_ kidnap your friend too?"

"Yes," Bottles admitted, hoping the disciple wouldn't ask just _why_ the "thing" looked so much like him.  "And he took her to. . . to, um, Hell, I think."

"Hell?" squeaked the disciple, starting to tear up again.  "H-he just flew out through the roof with Master Jiggywiggy, and by the time I ran outside, they were gone."  He brought his hands to his broad golden face and whimpered.  "M-my poor master--!  Why is that fiend doing this?"

Bottles cringed.  "I-I don't know why he would want Jiggywiggy--"

" _Master_ Jiggywiggy," the disciple corrected primly.  
  
"--Master Jiggywiggy.  But. . . but I do know why he kidnapped Kazooie."

"Kazooie?" the disciple asked suspiciously.  "You mean that raucous red bird that used to spend time around here?  Oh dear."  He sighed, still fretting with his hands clasped in front of his face.  "Why was she kidnapped?"

Bottles hesitated, then gave up on keeping it a secret.  Instead, he launched into the whole tale, starting with Evil Bottles' birth eight years ago and ending with the abduction.  "So. . . it's all my fault," Bottles admitted.  "He took Kazooie to Hell because I got so angry with her.  But I don't know what it has to do with Jig-- your master."  The mole cringed, expecting the disciple to be furious-- but instead, the strange creature only nodded slowly.

"It isn't your fault," he told Bottles gently.  "If. . . feelings build up too much over time, sometimes they come out without you meaning to reveal them.  And if Kazooie _is_ your friend, I know you didn't want this to happen to her."  The disciple dropped his hands to his sides; Bottles saw that they were trembling.  "But you were never angry at Master Jiggywiggy, were you?  Why did Evil Bottles take him too?"

"I don't know."  Bottles frowned.  "Let's see, it had to have been after he took Kazooie, because he hadn't appeared in years.  She wasn't with him when he took your master?"  The disciple shook his ponderous golden head.  "Well then, he must have dropped her off in Hell then come back for Master Jiggywiggy a few minutes later. . . ."  Bottles trailed off and gave a groan.  "About the time _I_ decided to visit the temple."

"So he knows what you're thinking?"  The disciple's eyes widened, and his trembling grew.

"I don't think he can read my mind or anything. . . but he _is_ me in a way, so he probably reaches a lot of the same conclusions.  You see, I wanted to come ask Master Jiggywiggy if he could open a door to Hell for me, so I could follow Evil Bottles and Kazooie.  The spirit would have realized that's what I would do, since this temple is practically next door to my burrow, and since Jiggywiggy _is_ the wisest person in the whole series.  After the Lord of Games of course."

The disciple's face had glowed with pride at the praise for his master-- but then he glared over the aside about L.O.G.

"Hmph, maybe so, but my master is a thousand times more dignified and beautiful than that-- that vain, spoiled--"

"Quiet!" Bottles yelped, waving his hands around uselessly when he realized that the disciple had no mouth he could cover.  "I don't want to have an angry L.O.G. to deal with too!"  The disciple fell into a sullen silence, and Bottles went on, "So Evil Bottles came to kidnap Jiggywiggy before I could go to him for help.  Now I _still_ don't know how to get into Hell, and I have _two_ people to rescue."

"You?"  The disciple blinked at him.  "You're going to rescue them?  What about that honey bear who's always the hero?"  
  
"He's busy," Bottles growled.  "And I can be just as good a hero as he is!"  He gripped the straps of the backpack and tried to look heroic.  ". . . as soon as I decide where to go next."

"Well, if you still need to know how to enter Hell, you should look for another wise person.  Not as wise as my master, of course, but surely someone else would have an idea."  The disciple paused thoughtfully, then his face lit up (hurting Bottles' sensitive eyes a bit).  "What about Cheato, the witch's old spell book?  He's certainly very wise; Master Jiggywiggy used to visit him after Banjo-Tooie to talk about. . . well, wise things."

"What a good idea!" Bottles enthused, deciding that the disciple wasn't as useless as the mole had always believed.  "I'm not sure where Cheato would be now, but maybe he still lives in Gruntilda's old lair.  It can't hurt to check!"  He felt much better now that a plan of action was in place, and he turned towards the path leading back to the Jinjo Village.  "Come on, we don't have any time to lose!"

". . . .we?" came a weak little response.  Bottles turned and looked at the disciple in irritation.

"Yes, _we_.  You want to save your master, don't you?"

"Of course!  But. . . but I can't leave the temple."  The disciple gestured helplessly at the doorway around him.  "I haven't left it since I became Master Jiggywiggy's disciple!"

"He never gives you time off?" Bottles marveled.

The disciple retorted, "I've never _wanted_ time off, for your information!  And anyway, someone has to protect it while he's gone!"

"Just lock the door!" ordered Bottles impatiently.  "No one can get in without you, and it's not like you have any visitors anyway."

"That's neither here nor there!" snapped the disciple.  "My master told me that my job is to guard the door, _every day_.  And that's what I'll do."

Bottles turned back to face the disciple head-on, looking him over and noting the miserable expression in his eyes.  "You care about your master, don't you?"

The gold of the disciple's face darkened to a pale bronze.  "O-of course.  I'd do anything for him," he declared, somewhat shakily.

"Then this time, you have to disobey his orders-- _for him_."  Bottles looked up at the taller creature, amazed that he, Bottles, was now practically a party leader in an RPG.  _We'll be assigned jobs and given ridiculously over-accessorized outfits next. . . ._   "I need your help to rescue them; you showed me that when you thought of Cheato-- asking him for help had never even crossed my mind!"  The disciple's face wavered, and Bottles pressed on, feeling a little guilty for the emotional blackmail: "Your master could be in danger, or even suffering down there!   He needs you!"  They were the same things he had thought about Kazooie.

"I. . . ."  The disciple shivered and looked around at the temple.  "All right, I'll go with you."  He reluctantly came forward, shutting the heavy temple door behind him.  "I can't just sit here and wait for him to come back if he. . . if he needs me."  He looked back at the temple and whimpered softly.  "I could wait here forever, and he might never come back. . . .  I'd never s-see him a-again--!"

"Stop that and come on," Bottles grumbled as the disciple neared tears again.  "You'll see him again all right, and very shortly if Cheato's as wise as you say he is."

The disciple dabbed at his eyes with the edge of his robe and followed Bottles down into the woods, to the doorway that led back to the Jinjo Village.

\--

To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some time after writing this chapter, I realized that Cheato doesn't actually speak in rhymes... but I worked too hard on the rhymes to take them out now!

"So, uh, what's your name?"  It was the only thing Bottles could think of to say to the disciple as they walked through the Jinjo Village on their way back to Spiral Mountain.

"Master Jiggywiggy just calls me 'Disciple.'"

Bottles looked over his shoulder at the other man, who was following several paces behind him.  "Well, your parents didn't _name_ you 'Disciple,' did they?"

"N-no."  The disciple walked with his golden head downward.  "My given name is Auriel."

Bottles blinked.  "I would have guessed it was something like 'Goldo,' the way names go in this series."

Auriel shrugged.  "It _does_ mean 'golden one.'"

The unlikely heroes walked in silence the rest of the way, until they had reached the foot of Spiral Mountain.  The area hadn't changed since Bottles had last seen it, after Banjo and Kazooie had defeated Gruntilda one final time.  Bottles had then retreated back to his empty burrow, not having the inner strength to see the duo-- especially Kazooie-- again.  It was all just too humiliating: first being caught in his lie about Edna, and then being dressed up and made by the Lord of Games to play various roles in his silly themed worlds.  Of course he couldn't face Kazooie again after _that_.

But then he had gotten the invitation to Tooty's wedding, followed by Banjo's offer of a ride to Hailfire Peak.  It would have be rude to refuse Banjo and downright unthinkable to say no to Tooty, especially as she had been his only friend for a long time.

"The witch lived here?" Auriel marveled from just behind Bottles, startling the mole.  "It's such a lovely place!"

"Well, she lived up _there_."  Bottles pointed up at Gruntilda's abandoned lair.  "But yes, it's a strange place for an evil witch to set up shop."  He paused, eyeing the long, winding path up the mountain.  "But then, I always thought next door to an evil witch was a strange place for Banjo to live, too."

Bottles and Auriel trudged up the spiraling path to the top of the mountain; both were panting for breath by the time they reached the apex.  Auriel swallowed audibly when he saw the narrow rope bridge connecting the mountain to the doorway of the lair.

"We have to walk across _that_?"  
  
"Unless you want to fly," Bottles offered unsympathetically.  "I do have a backpack full of red feathers."

"I-I just. . . don't like heights very much," the disciple admitted.

Bottles held back a sigh and did his best to be nice.  "I suppose you could wait here while I go talk to Cheato--"

"No!" Auriel interrupted before Bottles could even finish.  "I need to hear what Cheato says if he knows any way I can help my master!"  He actually brushed past Bottles to step out onto the bridge and cross it first, though he shook hard enough to make the ropes tremble below his hands.

 _Jiggywiggy certainly has him on a tight leash,_ Bottles observed as he followed the disciple-- _after_ the bridge stopped wobbling.

The foyer just inside the entrance to Gruntilda's lair looked considerably better inside than the last time Bottles had been in it, back during the days of Banjo-Kazooie.  The left side was mostly blocked by a number of large rocks that appeared not to have been touched in many years, but the right side, including the tunnel leading to the entrance to Mumbo's Mountain, was clear; the stone floor was even swept, and a number of books were arranged on shelves lining the walls.  A large portrait of Cheato the spellbook now hung where Gruntilda's picture had once been.

Auriel shivered a little even as he admired the books.  "It's cold in here."

"You're the one wearing the robe," Bottles complained, pulling his own jacket more tightly around him.  "I don't even get pants."

"The reason for the frigid air's," a deep, ancient-sounding voice intoned from the tunnel, "from mold to keep my pages clear."  A flapping sound followed and grew progressively louder, then an enormous leather bound book joined them, flying slowly in from the tunnel.  "Welcome, guests, to Cheato's home.  What brings you to this ancient tome?"

Auriel only gaped at the book, his brown eyes wide.  Bottles drummed his claws against each other nervously; he never had been good at conversing with those characters who insisted upon rhyming all the time.

"Erm, hello," the mole stammered.  "My name is Bottles and this is Auriel, the disciple of Master Jiggywiggy."

Cheato nodded, as much as a book could.  "Yes, I know your master well.  Has he sent you here, pray tell?"

"N-no."  Auriel looked up at the spellbook miserably.  "Something terrible has happened, Master Cheato-- Master Jiggywiggy has been kidnapped!"

"Along with Kazooie," Bottles added a little indignantly, "the breegull who helped you get your pages back."

Cheato was silent a moment-- _Probably trying to think of how to rhyme his next words,_ Bottles decided-- then said, "Who has done this awful deed?  And from Cheato, what do you need?"  Once more, Bottles explained the situation of Evil Bottles and the kidnapping-- as well as where Kazooie and Jiggywiggy had been taken.

"Since Jiggywiggy's gone, we have no way to get a door open into Hell so we could follow Evil Bottles and stop him," the mole finished.  "Auriel thought that maybe you would be able to help us find a way in."

"Hmn."  Cheato sighed and rustled his pages.  "I lack the power to open that door; I can give advice, no more.  Only the Reaper may open Hell and is allowed to come and go at will."  His eyelids came together in a sort of frown.  "I don't know how the mole got in, or how he got back out again."

"That isn't important right now," Bottles said impatiently.  "We just need to get in too.  So who is the Reaper?  And where do we find him?"  Auriel shivered so hard at the word "Reaper," reflections danced off his head.

"The Reaper comes when one is lost, to take the soul to pay the cost.  Only the dead gain entrance to Hell-- but he has at times been bribed as well.  Find something he wants or needs, and he may let you into Hell for free."

"S-so we don't have to die?" Auriel stammered.  "That's a relief."  Bottles agreed; he was entirely unsure that he was ready to be _that_ kind of hero.  "But how do we get the Reaper to come to us without dying?  D-do we have to. . . kill someone?"

Cheato gave a rusty chuckle.  "Yes, my child, but do not fret-- there's a way out of it yet.  There's one creature who might not fall, that furry rodent called a squirrel.  Squirrels live long as they think they canst; Death grants them another chance.  Kill a squirrel: its death won't last, and the Reaper then will your way pass."

"A-all right. . . ."  Bottles was as unhappy as Auriel about having to kill anything, but he could only trust that Cheato knew what he was talking about: both that the Reaper, whoever he was, would come to them, and that he could be convinced to allow the two of them into Hell.

"Thank you, Master Cheato," Auriel said, bowing reverently.  Bottles followed suit with an awkward little bow of his own, not to be outdone.

"Yes, thank you for all your help," he told the spellbook.  Cheato gave another nod in return, ruffling his pages.

"I wish you the best of luck, that they won't in Hell be stuck."  Not the most elegant of rhymes, but it was better than some others Bottles could think of.

As Bottles and Auriel left Gruntilda's lair-- now Cheato's lair, Bottles supposed-- the mole murmured, "Now we just have to find a squirrel."

"Um. . . what's a squirrel?"

Bottles took a deep breath and fought the urge to roll his eyes while they made their way back down the mountain.  "It's just like Cheato said: a furry rodent.  And it has a long tail.  You don't get out much, do you?"

"I've never had any reason to," Auriel retorted.  "I'm perfectly happy in the temple.  It's. . . ."  He trailed off, then said more softly, "It's my whole world."

 _Just like my burrow,_ Bottles thought, _only he isn't alone in the temple.  He has someone to care about. . . ._

"I. . . I can understand," Bottles muttered.  "And you'll be back there soon, I promise."  Auriel gave him a surprised, touched look, which Bottles tried to ignore.  "I do remember one squirrel who used to live in Click-Clock Wood, but that was ten years ago-- he might not be there anymore."

"We could still go there and look for him," said Auriel.  "Especially if he's the only squirrel you know."

"There's just one problem: I don't know how to get into Click-Clock Wood," Bottles admitted.  "A decade ago, the only door I knew of was in Gruntilda's lair, but it was in the area that's blocked off by the rock slide now."

Auriel's face-- or at least his eyes, which were all the face he had-- fell.  "But we have to try!  Otherwise, I'll-- I'll get into Hell any way I have to!"

Bottles stopped at the foot of the mountain to stare up at the taller disciple.  "Y-you mean you'd. . . you'd die for him?"

"Of course," Auriel said quietly.

"But. . . but even if you could get him out when you got there, you couldn't leave with him if you were dead."

"I-I know."  The disciple looked down at Bottles, obviously choosing his words.  "But this world needs him more than it needs me, and besides. . . ."  His lower eyelids lifted slightly, and Bottles realized that Auriel was smiling a little.  "If I had to live without him, it would be Hell no matter where I was."

 _And here I've always thought that Kazooie puts me through Hell when she's **here**._   And yet, thinking of going on like that, in a world devoid of sarcastic, name-calling breegulls. . . perhaps it wouldn't be as dismal as Auriel's life without his master, but it would come pretty close.  _I don't know that I'd trade places with her. . . but I'd at least go keep her company.  It's not like I have anything going for me here. . . ._

Bottles shook off the defeatist thoughts.  "Well, no one's going to have to stay in Hell if I can help it.  I do have another idea: I don't have very  many tunnels outside of Spiral Mountain, but my older brother has constructed passageways that connect areas all over this world.  We can go ask him if he's made one that passes near the entrance of Click-Clock."

"And if he hasn't?" Auriel asked.

"Then we'll think of something else."  Bottles managed a smile, and Auriel nodded.  Bottles wasn't used to being optimistic, but he had the feeling both of them were going to need all optimism they could get.

\--

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

As they walked back to the Jinjo Village-- _again_ , Bottles thought-- Auriel asked, "What is your brother like?  Like you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bottles asked suspiciously; years of knowing Banjo and Kazooie had taught him to expect insults at every turn.

"Erm, nothing," replied Auriel, sounding a bit bewildered.  "It's just that I don't know any other moles. . . .  I wondered if you're all alike."

"No," Bottles replied shortly.  "Jamjars isn't like me."  He gave a little sigh as they threaded their way through the brightly colored Jinjo houses and stopped outside the silo leading to Jamjars' tunnels.  "He used to be a drill sergeant, and he taught Banjo and Kazooie their moves in Banjo-Tooie, when I was-- ah, incapacitated."

"A drill sergeant?"  Auriel looked a bit worried.  "He sounds scary."

Jamjars _could_ be scary when he was angry, as Bottles well knew from years of being picked on as a kid: as tough and at times unfeeling as Jamjars seemed, he had always defended his little brother from the plethora of bullies who chose Bottles as a target.  But even when the two brothers had had their own fights and loud arguments, Jamjars had never been mean to him.

"He's a nice guy," Bottles assured the disciple.  "And he's not a drill sergeant anymore.  He, uh. . . well, he's a DJ now, but I think all of his old tunnels are still there."

Bottles hopped into the silo with Auriel awkwardly clambering in after him, his robe hiked up over his knees.  It was quite dark in the tunnel below, but Bottles' heightened senses of scent and touch allowed him to navigate easily.  Auriel, who was not so blessed, made a pitiful squeak when Bottles started walking  quickly towards Jamjars' burrow.

"I-I can't see anything!" the disciple wailed.

"Oh, sorry-- I forget sometimes when I've got non-moles down here," Bottles chuckled apologetically, turning to make his way back to Auriel.  "Here, put your hands on my shoulders, and I'll go slower."  Auriel fumbled in the darkness, whacking Bottles in the back of the head once, then finally got a grip on the much shorter mole.

"O-okay, I'm ready."

Bottles set off a second time, walking more slowly-- though Auriel still stumbled several times and nearly knocked them both down.  None too soon, they neared the end of the tunnel, which terminated in a small, impeccably neat Quonset hut of a burrow hidden on the far end of the Spiral Mountain area.  The area was lit with a utilitarian fluorescent light on the front of the hut.

"I hope he's home," Bottles murmured, immediately regretting that he'd spoken aloud: the last thing he wanted was to make Auriel fret even more.  Still, it was a valid concern: though Jamjars never missed his morning broadcast, he often disappeared later in the day.  He used to frequent the same bar Bottles had in the days after Banjo-Tooie, but since the beginning of what Bottles thought of as the Nuts and Bolts fiasco, Jamjars had abandoned his usual barstool.

 _Maybe he has a girlfriend_ , Bottles thought as he knocked on his brother's door.  _Even though he's always sworn he'd die a bachelor. . . ._

His worries were unfounded, though: Jamjars opened after the first knock.  As always, his small eyes were hidden by a pair of sunglasses, and he still wore his sergeant's uniform despite his retirement.  Bottles hadn't seen him in quite some time, and he was surprised to see a few flecks of silver in the fur around Jamjars' muzzle.

"Bottles?"  Jamjars started when he saw his brother, then he grinned and clapped his brother on the shoulder so hard, Bottles stumbled.  "Where y'been, kid?  Haven't seen ya since ya went off to Showdown Town!"

"Erm, I've just been. . . around," Bottles hedged.  He knew Jamjars had gotten pretty fed up with his, Bottles', depression after Edna left, and they didn't have time for another lecture now.  "How are you doing?"

"Eh, can't complain."  Jamjars craned his short, thick neck to eye Auriel.  "Who's yer buddy?"  Before either could answer, he moved out of the doorway and gestured into his hut.  "C'min!"

"We can't stay," Bottles told him.  "There's been a. . . well, a problem."  He gestured to the disciple, who was standing back from the moles, looking extremely out of place.  "This is Auriel; he's the disciple of Master Jiggywiggy whose temple is in the Wooded Hollow.  Jiggywiggy has been kidnapped-- and, uh. . . so has Kazooie."

"Kazooie."  Despite the sunglasses, Bottles could tell that Jamjars was giving him a sharp look.  "Who's taken the punks?"

" _P-punks_?" gasped Auriel, affronted.  Bottles waved a hand at him to silence him, wishing that he had thought to explain Jamjars' jargon to the disciple beforehand.

"Ah, well. . . you remember when I was-- well, killed, and there was that little problem with my evil side wanting revenge?"

"Eh, I get it," Jamjars groaned.  "So what'd the buzzard do this time that made ya want revenge on _her_?  Don't tell me ya finally got up some courage and she shot ya down."

"What?"  Poor Auriel looked from one to the other in utter confusion.

Bottles glared at his older brother, wishing he had never gotten drunk enough that one night to confess his feelings for Kazooie to Jamjars.  "How it happened is none of your business!  We just need to use one of your tunnels, if you have one that comes out near Click-Clock Wood."

"Now hold yer Horstachios," Jamjars snapped.  "Whaddoes Click-Clock Wood have to do with Evil Bottles kidnappin' Fleagirl and Jiggywiggy?"

"It's too long a story to tell you now," retorted Bottles, "but he's taken them to Hell, and we have to get into Click-Clock Wood to get them back."

"Y'got some explainin' to do later, kid," Jamjars grumbled.  "But I got a tunnel that comes out in summer over there-- y'can use that one. "  He jabbed a finger into his little brother's chest.  "Come by after ya find 'em, and tell me about it.  I got some questions for ya."

"I can't, not right away.  Tooty's-- Banjo's sister's-- wedding is tomorrow, so I have to get to Hailfire Peak after we find Evil Bottles.  I'll meet you at the bar tomorrow night."

To Bottles' complete amazement, Jamjars' muzzle flushed ever so slightly.  "I, uh. . . got plans tomorrow night."  He cleared his throat, then straightened up and clicked his heels together.  "We'll catch up sooner or later.  Now ya better start lookin' for those captives of yers!"  He gave them a salute that made Bottles roll his eyes, even as Auriel tried to give Jamjars an awkward salute in return.

 _He really must have a girlfriend!_ Bottles marveled a few minutes as he led Auriel back down the tunnel at an infuriatingly slow pace, after they had received directions to Click-Clock Wood from Jamjars.  _I'll have to try to get the secret out of him-- after he dresses me down for letting Kazooie cause me trouble again._

"I can't believe he called Master Jiggywiggy a punk," Auriel griped as he stumbled along in Bottles' wake.  "The nerve!"

"He calls everyone punks," muttered Bottles.  "Don't take it personally."

"As if Master Jiggywiggy is the same as 'everyone'!"  Apparently, Auriel found that idea just as offensive, for he didn't speak to Bottles again until they had emerged from the tunnel into the fierily hot world of Click-Clock Wood in summer.  The tunnel ended just inside the entrance to the summer version of the wood.  Auriel looked around them in wonder, even as he tugged at his heavy robes.

"This is a beautiful place," the disciple marveled.  "Squirrels live here?"

" _A_ squirrel.  At least, he did the last time I was here, about a decade ago."  Bottles looked around, squinting painfully in the strong sunlight.  "His name was Nabnut, and he lived up near the top of that tree."

Auriel swallowed audibly as he stared up at the huge tree.  "We.  . . we have to go up there?"

"Uh-- we'll take a shortcut," Bottles mumbled: not a complete lie, anyway.  "But first we have to figure out how we're going to. . . to tackle this."  He looked up at Auriel nervously.  "We have to-- to kill him.  At least a little, enough to get this Reaper to come for him.  So which one of us is going to do it?"

"Wait a minute," Auriel interrupted.  "You used to be dead, didn't you?"  Bottles nodded, not sure where this was going.  "Then why don't _you_ know the Reaper?" the disciple continued.  "Didn't he come for you?"  
  
The question had never even occurred to Bottles before, and he felt rather stupid for not thinking of it sooner.  "Um, no, he. . . he didn't.  No one came for me in fact.  I just. . . hung around until Evil Bottles got control, and then when Gruntilda was defeated, I got my life back."

Auriel's eyes narrowed in a thoughtful frown.  "How strange."

"That doesn't matter now anyway," Bottles said hastily.  "What matters is using Nabnut as bait, and how we're going to do it."

Both were silent for a long moment, then Auriel murmured, "I'll do it.  I. . . I said I'd do anything for Master Jiggywiggy, and I meant it.  Even if I have to take someone else's life."

"Just one of his lives, if Cheato's right," Bottles reminded him, immensely grateful that Auriel had taken on the task of squirrel-murdering for himself.  He slipped the backpack off his shoulders and rummaged around in it.  "There are a bunch of old grenade eggs in here-- those should still work.  You can set up a few of them around him and. . . uh, set them off."

Auriel peered down into the backpack nervously.  "But. . . he won't let us just put bombs around him, will he?"

"Well. . . . I have an idea about that."  Bottles slung the backpack over his shoulder again and motioned for Auriel to follow him out into the central area of the wood, off of which were situated the four seasons.  Auriel looked around at the four seasonal doors in bewilderment.

"It's. . . a different season through each of them?"

Bottles nodded.  "Yes, we came in through summer, but squirrels hibernate in winter-- so we should be able to find Nabnut sleeping there.  You can set the grenades off there, while he's asleep."  Saying it aloud made Bottles realize what a cowardly approach it was, but he tried to tell himself that it was all part of being a hero.

"But. . . ."  Auriel stood on the bridge between summer and the central warp pad, gesturing helplessly at the doors around him.  "But. . . how does this. . . if it's always summer in there, and always winter in _there_ , and we're _here_ , then how. . . _how_?"

"Don't ask me," Bottles harrumphed as he crossed over the central area towards winter.  "I'm sure the Lord of Games created it like all the rest of the worlds, so go complain to him about it."  Auriel made a disgusted noise but did not press the matter of how Click-Clock Wood could exist.

Despite his coat of sleek fur, Bottles keenly felt the cold wind of Click-Clock's winter, especially on his bare legs.  Auriel snuggled deeper in his brown cloak and looked around.

"Everything's dead," he murmured.  "Even though it's still alive in the other worlds, right now. . . ."

"Just try not to think about it," Bottles sighed, not wanting to have to go over it all again.  He looked around for a flight pad, then spotted one to their right on a frozen lake.  "This way," he told Auriel, beckoning for the disciple to follow him.  Bottles wasn't entirely sure if the red feathers stashed in Banjo's backpack would work on two non-birds, but their only other option would be to climb the great tree.  Bottles had already decided that the feathers were worth a try.

"Here."  He stood on the flight pad and gestured.  "Hold on to me tightly."  
  
"Erm. . . a-all right."  Auriel flushed to bronze again and wrapped his arms around Bottles' shoulders.  "What are we going to do?"  
  
"Don't ask," Bottles muttered, pulling out a handful of feathers.  "Just hold on."  He bent his knees slightly and gave a little hop; to his relief-- and to Auriel's horror, judging from the shriek he gave-- Bottles launched them both into the air.

"I-I guess you don't have to have wings to use these!" Bottles gasped aloud, more to calm his own nerves than to communicate with Auriel.  "It makes sense though, since Kazooie can't fly without them either. . . ."

"B-bottllllllles--!" wailed Auriel.

"Hold _on_!" Bottles commanded again, flying higher with awkward little bursts of speed as he used the feathers.  He could feel Auriel's weight pulling him downward, but he told himself he could combat it: after all, if tiny Kazooie could support Banjo's bulk, Bottles could carry Auriel.

Bottles slowly lifted them both higher until they drew even with the upper branches of the tree.

"That must be Nabnut's house!" he called to Auriel as he spotted a small, neat door set into the tree trunk.  He landed with a hard thud on the branch in front of the door.

"Ow," complained Auriel; being taller than Bottles, he had landed heavily on his knees.  Still, he seemed to be relieved to have something solid under his feet as he stood and braced himself on the tree trunk.  "So the squirrel is hibernating in there?"  
  
Bottles waddled over to the little round window set next to the door and peered in.  The glass had been broken-- and Bottles could guess which breegull's beak had broken it-- and snow had wafted into the room; however, there was a form on the bed covered with a blanket, lost in perpetual sleep.

 _I guess I didn't have to worry about him leaving,_ realized Bottles.  _Time doesn't move here at all: he'll be here forever._

"Yes, he's in there."  Bottles stood back from the window to let Auriel move in.  "You can crawl in through there to. . . to set the grenades."  He took off the backpack and got out two grenade eggs, holding them out to the disciple solemnly.  
  
"All. . . all right."  Auriel climbed in the window, then reached through to take the eggs from Bottles.  He walked slowly towards the squirrel's bed, then stopped abruptly.  ". . . Bottles?"

"What?"  When the disciple didn't answer, Bottles sighed and clambered through the window too.  "What is it?"  He broke off when he looked at the bed and saw what Auriel saw: _two_ squirrels sleeping there.

"He. . . he has a wife," Auriel said in a small voice.

"W-well. . . ."  Bottles swallowed hard.  "She's a squirrel too, so. . . ."

"But what if something goes wrong and one of the _does_ die for good?" Auriel fretted.  "Then the other would be all alone!  If we took his wife from him--"

"She might not be his _wife_ ," Bottles pointed out.  _As if that makes a difference._

"But. . . but they're sleeping together!"

Bottles felt his muzzle grow warmer as he wondered if Auriel could really be _that_ naïve.  "Uh, that doesn't have to mean that they're. . . married." _And sometimes married people **don't** sleep together. . . ._

Auriel's face turned downright copper.  "I. . . it. . . I s-see."  He turned away from Bottles and looked back at the two oblivious squirrels.  "It would be so nice," he whispered, "to sleep next to someone I love. . . ."

Bottles looked up at the disciple in surprise, noticing the warmth and depth in his brown eyes.  _He's in love,_ the mole realized.  _He's in love with his master._   Bottles felt like his own face was copper as well as he realized he should have understood that all along.

"We need to go ahead, Auriel," Bottles mumbled.  "Even if there _are_ two of them, we have to trust Cheato's word that they'll survive: it's our only choice."

Auriel shook himself a little, then nodded.  "Y-you're right.  How. . . how do I set these?"

"There's a pin-- you pull it out and then get away.  The grenade will explode after a few seconds."  
  
The disciple gave a soft whimper, but then he said in a surprisingly firm voice, "All right.  You get out first, then I'll follow."  Bottles climbed back out of the window and watched nervously as Auriel looked down at the grenades in his hands, then abruptly pulled out the pins.  He shoved the eggs under the squirrels' bed and hurriedly scrambled out of the window.

"I hate this," the disciple hissed under his breath.  Bottles glanced up at him again and was not surprised to see tears in his eyes.

 _So do I,_ Bottles wanted to say, but the grenades exploded before he could speak.

\--

To be continued


	5. Chapter 5

"And here I didn't think anything could be worse than going to that wedding," Kazooie muttered.  She was sitting grumpily on the floor of a giant gilt cage, much like the one used to imprison Canary Mary all those years ago in Glitter Gulch-- only far more elegant.  She glanced to her left at another identical cage, whose gold seemed dull in comparison to the head of the man inside it.

"I was meant to attend as well," Master Jiggywiggy murmured in his deep, resonant voice, "if you mean the wedding of the young bear."

"Well. . . yeah."  Kazooie blinked at Jiggywiggy.  "Why were _you_ going though?"

Jiggywiggy cast her what she assumed was meant to be an amused glance.  "There are no _other_ priests in this area, am I correct?"

"Fair enough," sighed Kazooie.  "So if Banjo doesn't hurry up and rescue us, Tooty's not getting any wedding at all."  She looked thoughtfully at Jiggywiggy.  "I wonder why E.B. wanted to kidnap _you_ anyway."

"Oh, I can answer that."  The response came from Evil Bottles himself: he had disappeared for some time, but Kazooie knew from past experience that he had a habit of popping up out of nowhere.  "The, ahem, 'Great Jiggywiggy' is better at opening doors than anyone since the Ice Key.  Just in case anyone _does_ decide you're worth rescuing, Chicken Legs, I didn't want him around to let the riffraff in."

"Whaddya mean 'just in case'?" Kazooie snapped.  "Banjo'll be here to deal with you any minute now!"

Evil Bottles gave her quite the infuriating smirk.  "Oh, you think so?  And what makes you expect that your tubby friend will have any idea where you are?"

Kazooie spat, "Banjo's not _that_ dumb.  Once Bottles tells him what--"  She broke off indignantly when E.B. burst out into rather stereotypical  wicked laughter.

"Ah yes, once Bottles tells him--  _if_ Bottles tell him."

"But--" Kazooie squawked, "but I _told_ him to get Banjo!"

Evil Bottles floated over to her cage and leaned forward, actually poking his muzzle between the bars.  "Since when has my meeker counterpart ever listened to _you_?  I'm sure he made up some excuse to placate the bear-- which I'm sure the bear, being rather dull, believed-- and they both went on to the wedding without you.  Of course," he added as an aside, with a gesture at Jiggywiggy, "there won't be any wedding without Goldy here, and eventually even Banjo will realize that something is amiss.  But he still won't be able to get in to rescue you until he himself buys the farm-- and then only if he is sufficiently naughty to get sent here rather than The Other Place, which I doubt is within his capabilities."  The spirit shrugged.  "Either way, it will be far too late for everyone concerned.  Bottles _will_ have his revenge on you, and he'll live out the rest of his days in peace unfettered by loud red birds."

Kazooie gaped at him, her beak open slightly.  In the end, all she could mutter was, "Boy is Bottles gonna get it when he does finally up and die.  And I _know_ that _he'll_ end up here," she growled up at E.B. before he could add the Heaven caveat.  "If betraying your friend isn't enough to land you in Hell, nothing is."

Evil Bottles only smirked.  "Who said you're his friend?"

Even Kazooie could say nothing in reply as the red, horned mole floated off to wherever it was he hung out when he wasn't taunting them.  Jiggywiggy had remained silent throughout the whole dialogue, and Kazooie felt keenly embarrassed that he had heard everything. _One of the most powerful beings in the series is stuck here because of me. . . and all because I was mean to Beetle Breath._

"Uh, what about your disciple?" Kazooie finally asked the priest in a low voice, more to take his mind off her role in the fiasco than anything else.  "Wasn't he there when you got kidnapped?  And he's got all the jiggies, so he could open the door and come rescue us. . . ."

"He lacks the knowledge of how to control the Crystal Jiggy," Jiggywiggy replied just as softly.  "I've taught him everything I know except for that."  He sighed, looking thoughtfully down at his hands folded in his lap.  "I simply told him that he was not ready to learn the Crystal Jiggy's secrets. . . but maybe it is only that I was not ready to teach them.  But in any case, I should have, for now there is no one left to control the Jiggy.  He will fulfill my place in the temple and bring honor to our order, but the power of the Crystal Jiggy will be lost forever."

"Smart move, Goldilocks," Kazooie grumbled.  "But. . . you mean you think he's just gonna take over your job and not even try to look for you?  There's gratitude for you."

Jiggywiggy raised his head and glared at her.  "That is his purpose!  I've told him many times that if I were ever incapacitated, he is to immediately take over my duties."

Kazooie rolled her eyes.  "Okay, okay.  Maybe you super-religious guys really don't have any feelings, but I thought you'd at least care about each other after spending all those years together."

"Of course I care about him," Jiggywiggy muttered.  "He. . . he is very dear to me.  But his first duty is to the Crystal Jiggy, not to me."  
  
The breegull looked at him curiously, cocking her head.  _Hmm.  Now **this** is interesting._   "Really?  And so is yours, I suppose. . . so if _he_ were trapped down here, you'd just go on being the great Jiggywiggy and leave him in Hell?"

Jiggywiggy gave her one anguished look, then turned away.

\--

Neither Bottles nor Auriel moved for a moment after the noise of the explosion subsided.  Finally, the mole muttered, "Go see what happened."

" _I_ don't want to go look!" protested Auriel.  "I set the grenades-- _you_ go look."

Bottles was about to protest again when he heard a voice from within the unfortunate Nabnut's house.  It was a small, somewhat squeaky voice, and at first he thought it came from Nabnut himself-- especially since it was griping mightily.  But when he tiptoed back to the window and peered in, he discovered that it was instead the voice of the Reaper.

"Bloody useless squirrels!" the Reaper was muttering to himself.  He looked fairly traditional-- a cloaked skeleton with a scythe-- except for one fact: he was short.  Very short.  In fact, Bottles thought that he himself might have an inch or two on the cowled figure before him.

Bottles kept watching as he awkwardly motioned Auriel to come to the window.  The Reaper had one pinkish squirrel slung over his shoulder and was dragging another brown one by the scruff of the neck.  As the two would-be heroes observed him, the Reaper unceremoniously plopped the pink female back into bed, then hauled the brown Nabnut up next to her.  He covered both and stepped away, allowing Bottles a clear view of the rodents.  Both were still sleeping, apparently not at all disturbed by having died and been resurrected.

"As if I don't have enough to do without the sodding squirrels and whatever p----s left a bunch of grenades lying around!" the Reaper grumbled; when he said the word that began with "p," a loud beeping covered his voice.  The Reaper scowled and glared up at the ceiling.  "Oh, that's right, this is a _family_ series, you bloody pansy.  Well enough for you to mince around in your purple dress, but you got to violate our right to speak freely?  P---er!"

"Did he just call us punks?" Auriel whispered to Bottles.

"Erm. . . more or less."  Their movements apparently caught the eye-sockets of the Reaper, and he turned to glare at them, startled.  Bottles knew that they would have had to get the skeleton's attention eventually to accomplish their mission, but he still halfway wished they hadn't been noticed.

"Oh bloody hell, it's _you_ ," the Reaper groaned after looking Bottles over.  "Come to taunt me again, have you?"

Bottles blinked.  "I. . . have we met?"

"Not as far as you're concerned."  The Reaper gestured with his scythe.  "But I remember you, you little w---er.  You're the one what died, and I couldn't touch you.  The Powers That Be--"  Again, he motioned at the ceiling.  "--gave me orders to leave you right there, let your spirit go wandering around like you were a sodding cat. . . or one of _those_ obnoxious little things in the bed over there.  Back to life now, I see."

"Um, yes."  Bottles scratched at his head.  "Uh, Mr. Reaper--"

"Gregg," the skeleton said shortly.  "The name's Gregg."

"Gregg.  We need your help."

"Oh sure, now when I'm at my busiest since the Great Cat Massacre!"  Gregg shook his head, resting his forehead briefly in his skeletal hand.  "I don't have time for your p---ing little problems.  Some w---er left the Gates of Hell open on his way in, and by the time I got there to close 'em, a good couple dozen spirits had escaped!  And _then_ these p---ing little squirrels had to go and get blown up, so I had to stop collecting and--"  Gregg broke off abruptly and stared sharply at Bottles and Auriel.

Auriel cringed and drew back a little.  Bottles himself was glad that the wall of Nabnut's house still separated them from the Reaper.

"Wait just a minute," Gregg squeaked at Bottles.  "The careless s---head who left the Gates open looked a _lot_ like you.  And then you just happen to be here when I bring the sodding squirrels back?"  He jabbed his scythe in Bottles' direction.  "It was _you_ wasn't it, you little p---k?  I'll have your head, Lord of Games be rotted!"

"H-hold on!" Bottles cried, trying to stumble backwards but bumping into Auriel instead.  "I-it was a mistake-- and the one who left the Gates open wasn't me!"  
  
Gregg looked him over, then looked at Auriel.  "What about you, Lumphead?  What's going on here?"

"H-he's telling the truth," Auriel said in a small voice.  "The one who left your Gates open was Evil Bottles-- he escaped when this Bottles got mad.  We need your help to get to Hell to stop him."  He paused, then said quickly, "And you're right.  The Lord of Games _is_ a pansy."

Gregg's toothy mouth twitched in what might have been a suppressed grin.  "So you two killed the bloody squirrels to get my attention?  S'pose I should be flattered, even if it _did_ give me extra work."  He turned back to Bottles, narrowing his eye sockets.  "So you want a free ride to Hell, is that it, Goggles?"

"Yes-- just so we can fix the mess I made!" Bottles added hastily.  "Evil Bottles took some people down there that shouldn't be in Hell, so we want to get them back.  And I'll stop him from causing more trouble.  Somehow."

"Hmph."  Gregg looked down, tapping his fingers on his scythe's staff in thought.  "All right, I'll take you down there, even if it _is_ against the rules.  Under one condition."  He looked up again and banged the scythe's end on the floor.  "You help me catch these rubbish escaped souls!"

"Y-you mean. . . ghosts?" Auriel whimpered, turning a paler shade of gold than normal.  "But how do we catch ghosts?"

"I don't mean that you'll capture them yourselves," Gregg snapped.  "It's like this: souls are slippery little buggers, and I can't hold on to more than a couple at a time.  It'll take too long to carry them back to Hell in pairs; I need something to carry them in.  That's where you two w---ers come in.  Find me something-- anything-- to hold the souls, and I'll let you into Hell."

"All right," Bottles agreed before Gregg could change his mind.  "We'll find something.  You'll wait for us here?"

"Hmph, maybe _you_ have all the sodding time in the world, but I'll get my pay docked if I just sit around on my arse," retorted Gregg.  " _He's_ always watching, you know."  He motioned once more to the ceiling, as if L.O.G. were floating there staring down at them.  "I'll be out catching what I can, and I'll come to you when you find a soul receptacle."  He gave a full-out grin then, a rather frightening occurrence.  "I'm always watching too."

Auriel shivered, apparently not liking that idea any more than Bottles did.  "We'll be off then, Mr.-- uh, Gregg."

"Right.  And don't be too long about it!"  Gregg gave them a stern final look, then he abruptly disappeared.

"This gets more like an RPG every minute," Bottles grumbled, "us having to do all these missions."  He sighed and pulled some more feathers out of the backpack.  "Come on, let's start looking.  L.O.G. knows where we'll find a. . . a soul receptacle."

Auriel looked over his shoulder into the squirrels' house before getting a grip on Bottles once more.  "I'm glad Nabnut and his. . . friend are all right, at least.  I don't think they even noticed."

"That's the first good news we've had all day," Bottles agreed.

\--

To be continued


	6. Chapter 6

"Do you have any ideas of what Gregg could use to hold souls?" Bottles asked the disciple as they trudged back to the summer section of Click-Clock Wood.  "I haven't run into that many people with bags or boxes-- at least not since I left Showdown Town."

"We could go there and get something," Auriel shrugged, then he winced as he looked down into Jamjars' dark silo.

"L.O.G.'s had the door closed off lately."  Bottles clambered down into the silo then looked back up at the disciple.  "I guess he doesn't want anyone getting in for a while."

"Hmph, what does _he_ have to keep people out for?  Just to be inconvenient, I suppose," sniffed Auriel.  "It's not like anyone could harm him, and he's hardly discretionary like _my_ master, parading himself around town on those big monitors."

Bottles blinked at him.  "What is _with_ you and L.O.G.?  I would think a religious-- er, man would have more respect for a deity."

"He-- he may be a deity, but he's also a mincing little tart!" Auriel exploded.  "Why, the last time he came to see Master Jiggywiggy, he--"  The disciple broke off, flushing bronze again.

"He what?" Bottles said gently.  As irritating as the delay was, Bottles' curiosity had gotten the better of him.  And besides, he knew all about jealousy.

"Oh, he didn't _do_ anything," Auriel sighed.  "But he. . . he was practically _flirting_ with my master, and. . . ."  He looked down, his eyelids falling miserably.  "And Jiggywiggy kept smiling at him, the whole time.  They've known each other a long time, and I'm afraid that they. . .  at least that they used to. . . ."  He trailed off again.

"But isn't L.O.G. married?"  Bottles pushed himself halfway out of the silo for a better look at the unhappy Auriel.  "I've heard people mention a Lady of Games."

Auriel gave a short, mirthless laugh.  "Oh, I know all about _her_ \-- he brought her with him once when he came to the temple."  He rolled his brown eyes with a surprising show of irritation.  "She's his sister-- just a little girl with a rather violent streak.  She _is_ the Lady of Games, but she's certainly not his wife."

"Hm.  I guess he just lets people think he's married. . . so they won't know that the Lord of Games is alone just like the rest of us," Bottles murmured, suddenly far more sympathetic towards L.O.G. than he ever had been before.

"He could have anyone he wants," Auriel retorted.

"So if he really wants your master, why is Jiggywiggy living in a temple with _you_?"  Bottles jabbed a claw at Auriel, then nodded decisively when the disciple only blushed further and did not respond.  "Now come on; we have to find a container for Gregg, or your master will be living in Hell with Kazooie instead."

Auriel awkwardly scrambled into the silo after Bottles had ducked inside.  "What about that backpack you're wearing?"

" No, we need this!" protested Bottles.  "For one thing, it belongs to Banjo, but it's also full of items we might need.  We can't give those up!"

"Oh, you have a point.  We certainly wouldn't want to run out of feathers."  It took Bottles a moment to realize that Auriel was actually being sardonic.  The mole chuckled a little, rather relieved that the disciple wasn't completely spineless after all.

As they walked back through Jamjars' tunnel, Auriel holding on to Bottles' shoulders again, the mole caught various scents wafting in from the worlds that branched off to either side.  Then, when Bottles sniffed the familiar salty smell of ocean wind and water (with that slight, ever-present hint of fish), an idea occurred to him.  He stopped so suddenly, Auriel bumped into him.

"There's an ocean world near here," Bottles explained.  "I smell it.  Maybe there's something there we could give to Gregg-- a net or bucket or _something_."

"It's worth a try," Auriel agreed.  "And. . . it's been a long time since I've been to the ocean.  I'd like to see it again."

Bottles smiled as he turned them in the direction of the ocean's scent.  "After you rescue your master,  you should make him take you to the seaside.  I know a great vacation spot if you do."

They emerged from the tunnel into sunlight much brighter than that of Click-Clock Wood, light unfiltered by trees.  Bottles squinted painfully and tried to look past the glare of the sand to figure out where they were.

"It's beautiful!" marveled Auriel.  Bottles looked at him, then winced at the reflection of the sun off of the broad golden head.  Oblivious, the disciple was looking around at the clear water lapping on the sand and tall palm trees topped with incongruous red feathers.

"This is Treasure Trove Cove," Bottles realized when he saw the palm trees.  "Quite a nice place, really."

Auriel padded across the sand to a palm tree, resting a hand against its rough trunk.  "Oh yes!"  He looked past it across a tide pool of water; behind the pool was a cliff face, sheer except for a small shelf of rock high up.  "What's that blue thing up there?"

Bottles shaded his eyes with his hand and looked up.  "It looks like a-- a bucket!  Come on!"  He quickly skirted the tide pool with Auriel scuffling after him.  At first Bottles worried that they wouldn't be able to scale the cliff, but as they explored they found that it was only a wall-like structure.  They were able to climb a stack of crates on the other side, then drop down onto the shelf-- though Auriel did so with great awkwardness.

There they found what was indeed a bucket.  It was hopping up and down and producing a highly-annoying rattle as its handle banged against its metal surface, which was rather garishly painted with blue and purple, along with some annoyingly cheerful-looking suns.  The bucket had two large blue eyes that stared up at them hopefully.

"Me Leaky," the bucket announced.  "No good for holding water."

  
"Oh, you poor thing," Auriel sympathized, peering down into Leaky.  "You have a hole!"

"Wait a minute, I remember Banjo talking about you," Bottles interrupted, tapping on Leaky's gaudily decorated metal surface.  "You're that bucket he and Kazooie kept giving eggs to-- and every time they came back, you'd lost them."

"Banjo?  Oh, you mean big teddy bear?"  Leaky gave a little hop.  "Well. . . Leaky got hungry.  Have taste for omelets."  He slumped a little, looking up at Bottles with sad eyes.  "Leaky sorry."

"Bottles, look, you're making him upset!" Auriel scolded, scooping up the bucket in his arms and giving him a hug.  "Don't worry, Leaky, it's okay!"

Bottles tried to hold back a groan of irritation.  "Auriel, let's get on with it."  He turned back to Leaky and asked, "Will you do something for us?  We need your help."

Leaky blinked at him.  "Need water drained?"  
  
"Erm, no.  We need you to. . . to carry something."

The bucket gave an impatient little rattle, and Auriel set him down, turning a faint bronze.  "Leaky help if patch hole again."

Auriel's shoulders slumped a little.  "But we don't have anything to--"

"Wait, yes we do."  Bottles took off the backpack and rummaged in it to find some eggs.  _How long has Kazooie had these things?_ he wondered as he fished two out and dropped them into Leaky-- hoping the bucket wouldn't break them if they were as old as Bottles guessed.

"There.  Just don't eat them this time!"

"Thank you!" Leaky rattled.  "Now all patched, ready to carry!  What mole and-- uh, puzzle man want Leaky to hold?"

"Ah, well. . . ." Bottles stammered.  "That's a little hard to explain--"  
  
"I'll explain it."  All three of them jumped-- Leaky making a loud clatter as they did-- and turned to find Gregg standing behind them, arms folded and bony foot tapping.  "You're going to hold runaway souls-- the whole bleedin' lot of them."  He reached out and snatched up Leaky; the bucket gave a clanking wail of terror.

"No!  Leaky no want to die!"

Gregg held Leaky up and glared at him eye-to-socket.  "You're an NPC, remember, you sodding little pail?  You _can't_ die.  More of _his_ ideas," he added as an aside to Auriel, to whom Gregg had apparently taken a shine after the L.O.G.-is-a-pansy comment.  "And you got no choice in the matter, anyhow.  I sent those two w-----s after a soul receptacle, and you were the lucky winner."

Leaky stared up at Gregg with his wide, innocent blue eyes.  "What's a 'w-----'?"

"Never mind," groaned Gregg.  He gave Bottles a stern look.  "Really, this is the best you could do?"

"We kept our part of the deal!" Bottles retorted.  "You didn't say that the container couldn't be sentient!"

"Fine, fine, I don't have the bleeding time to argue with mortals," Gregg sighed.  "I suppose you'll be wanting your pass into Hell now before I can get on with my sodding _job_."

As it turned out, Bottles and Auriel-- and Leaky-- didn't have an option.  Without so much as a wave of his bony hand, Gregg moved them all at once from the bright, cheerful world of Treasure Trove Cove to a damp, cavernous place threaded with an equally dark river.

"Is. . . is this Hell?" Auriel asked in a small voice.  "I always thought it would be. . . hotter."

"Don't be daft; of course it isn't Hell," Gregg snapped.  "This is just the entrance to the underworld."

"Leaky scared," pronounced the bucket.

Gregg marched over to a small dock that protruded from the rock surface on which they stood out into the river; a small wooden boat waited at its end.  The Reaper climbed in and set Leaky between his bony feet, then motioned impatiently for the others to join them.

"I haven't got all bloody day!" the Reaper growled squeakily.  "Come _on_."

Auriel clambered into the boat, whimpering slightly when his weight upset its balance a little; however, he managed to sit down in the bow without causing any accidents.  Bottles got in behind Gregg, then the Reaper pushed off from the dock with one of a pair of oars.

"This is the river Styx," Gregg explained after they had cut through the water in silence for a while.  "It leads deeper into the underworld.  All you sodding mortals go this way at first, whether you're heading for Hell or Heaven."

"But this isn't where I saw Evil Bottles take Kazooie," Bottles protested.  "It was all fiery there, not like this."

"Hmm?  A direct entrance into Hell then," mused Gregg.  "I have to admit that's rather the impressive move.  You must have some right powerful anger, Goggles."  That didn't make Bottles feel much better, and the mole slumped in the stern unhappily.

By the time they reached a spot where Styx branched into two smaller streams, the nerves of all of them were stronger; even Leaky had stopped rattling on the floor of the boat.  (However, the sound kick Gregg had given him might have had something to do with it.)  Gregg paused at the fork in the river, holding the boat steady with a paddle.

"This is where the choice is made.  If the dead one's been good enough, I take him that way, up the river Lethe."  He pointed up along the stream to the right.  "Leads to Heaven."  The Reaper then turned and pointed the other way, to the left.  "And if he's to go down under, I take him up Mnemosyne instead.  That's where _we're_ going."

"Why do the rivers have different names?" asked Auriel as Gregg steered them towards the one he had called Mnemosyne.  "Why isn't it all just Styx?"

"Because they're different rivers, Goldy!" Gregg snapped.  "Styx's water is normal-- a bit cold, but any w----- can swim in it if he wants to, without no effects.  But Lethe makes you forget.  Anyone going up that way gets a good dunking at the end, and he forgets all the rubbish things he's done in his life.  That way when he's in Heaven, he only has good memories and can be happy."

"If Lethe makes you forget, does Mnemosyne make you remember?" Bottles asked softly.

Gregg gave him a surprised look.  "You're catching on, Goggles.  Yes, anyone sent to Hell gets dunked too, and Mnemosyne makes him _remember_ \-- every dirty, sinful, rotten thing he's done in his whole life."

"That sounds more like my conscience," muttered Bottles.

"You gonna dunk Leaky in water?" the bucket whimpered, the first time he had spoken since they had arrived in the underworld.  "Leaky not want to think about bad things like getting hole, being abandoned on beach. . . years all alone. . . ."  The tender-hearted Auriel gave a sorrowful sniffle.

"Quiet, pail," Gregg grumped, pulling his cowl up farther around his face.

He landed the boat at a dock at what was apparently the end of the navigable portion of Mnemosyne; under the dock, the water flowed beneath the ground onto which they stepped.  Gregg picked up Leaky by his handle and walked over to a large door set into flat stone wall just past the dock.

"And this is the entrance to Hell," he told Bottles and Auriel as they came up behind him.  It was a rather ordinary door despite its size; in fact, it was quite like the door to Bottles' burrow.  Still, when Gregg opened it with one bony hand, what Bottles saw was far from his cozy, albeit in disrepair, home.

A long, stone staircase descended from the door through nothing but air until it reached the top of a mountain flowing with lava.  There it turned into a path that wound its way down in a spiral towards the fiery depths below.  It rather reminded Bottles of what Spiral Mountain would look like had it existed on the lava side of Hailfire Peak.

"We. . . we have to go down there?" whispered Auriel.

"If you want to rescue your friends, yes," said Gregg unsympathetically.  He motioned at them with the hand holding Leaky, resulting in a rattle, then started down the stairs.  "Come on if you want an escort.  I'm not waiting all day on you p----s."

Bottles nervously followed him down the steps, which were rather steep and windy for his taste.  Auriel followed him, making worried little sounds from time to time.  Finally they reached the mountain, where Bottles felt a bit safer.  Even though lava oozed down the steep surfaces from a caldera at the top, it apparently never touched the path on which they began a slow descent.  Surprisingly, the heat was not especially oppressive either-- at least not to Bottles, who was once thankful for his lack of pants.  When he glanced back at Auriel, the disciple seemed a bit uncomfortable in his heavy robes.

"Leaky hot," the bucket complained; apparently, his metal surface had soaked up the lava's heat.

"Get used to it," Gregg grumbled, giving Leaky a shake.  "You'll be seeing a lot of this bloody place before I'm through with you."

Leaky gave a miserable whimper.  "Leaky never see ocean again?"

Bottles thought Gregg wasn't going to answer, but then he heard the Reaper mumble, "I'll take you back to your sodding beach, all right, pail?  But only if you keep quiet!"

It wasn't until they neared the bottom of the mountain that Bottles could see past the fiery haze to their destination.  Hell appeared to be a mountain range of volcanoes like the one they descended, only smaller; there were also scattered valleys in which, as they moved lower and lower, Bottles could see what must be lost souls.  He shuddered and looked instead towards the valley surrounding their own mountain.  Here there were none of the black masses of condemned, but as they rounded the side of the volcano again, Bottles saw something far stranger: two large, gilt birdcages.

He was about to ask Gregg what they were, but the Reaper's exclamation preceded him: "What in the bloody Hell are _those_ doing here?"  Gregg started fairly jogging down the rest of the path, Leaky rattling as  he was jolted along.

Bottles and Auriel stumbled after him as fast as they could, until they had circled the mountain a final time, finally reaching the end of the path where the mountain met the ground.  Now the two cages were directly before them across the valley.  Bottles saw Gregg hurrying towards them, already yelling a string of censored profanity, as well as Evil Bottles flying rapidly from the opposite direction to intercept Gregg.  But Bottles didn't even notice what was _in_ the cages until Auriel gave a cry of mixed joy and pain.

" _Master!_ "

The mole jumped and squinted towards the cages.  In one, he could just make out the shine of Jiggywiggy's head amidst the shine of the gold bars-- then, in the other, he saw a flash of red feathers that rivaled the glowing lava that surrounded them.

\--

To be continued


	7. Chapter 7

Kazooie had not taken well to being caged; she was slumped over unhappily and not paying much attention to her surroundings.  Therefore, she didn't even see the arrival of her rescuers until she heard Jiggywiggy gasp from the cage beside hers.

" _Auriel!_ "

"Eh?"  Kazooie looked up laconically to find Jiggywiggy grasping the bars of his cage, staring out in front of him with a look of sheer joy in his green eyes.  "Who's Auriel?" the breegull asked as she looked herself.

It was like staring into the face of chaos.  The first thing she noticed was Death himself making a mad dash for them.  (Surprisingly though, the cloaked skeleton was rather shorter than she had expected, and he was carrying that annoyingly sweet beach pail from Treasure Trove Cove.)  The second thing Kazooie saw was Evil Bottles making a mad dash of his own, apparently to intercept Death.  And the third thing she saw was actually two things: Jiggywiggy's disciple and Bottles stumbling towards them, following the short Grim Reaper.

" _Bottles!_ " Kazooie gasped, unaware that she was exactly echoing Jiggywiggy's tone.  She hurried to the front of her cage and stuck her head through the bars, staring in amazement. _He. . . he came to rescue me!  He **is** a hero!_

"What in the bleeding underworld are _these_  sodding things?" the Reaper exploded, gesturing wildly at the cages with his scythe.  As he did so, Evil Bottles reached them, darting between the Reaper and the cages.

"Mind your own business, Short Stuff!" E.B. snapped, waving his own pitchfork at the Reaper.

"Hell _is_ my business, you little p----," the Reaper said in a deadly voice-- or as deadly as his high-pitched little squeak could sound.  "I don't know what kind of abilities the Powers That Be gave you, but even _he_ should know better than to let you redecorate with bloody frou-frou _birdcages_."  He made a sharp jab at the cages with his scythe, and they disappeared.  Kazooie gave a squawk as she dropped to the ground; to her grim amusement, Jiggywiggy nearly fell over when the bars on which he had been leaning disappeared.  He righted himself with great dignity, however.

" _What?_ " cried Bottles, who had finally caught up to the Reaper at the cages, the disciple panting behind him.  "I-- _I_ was supposed to rescue her!"

Kazooie gawked at him then snapped, "Says who, Beetle Breath?"

"Quiet!" the Reaper bellowed (squeaked).  "Nobody's bloody rescued, and frankly, you can all go sod yourselves as far as I'm concerned!"  He swept around in a circle, encompassing them all in his eyeless glare and the sweep of his scythe.  "Work it all out yourselves-- just _don't_ leave any of your bloody litter around in _my_ Hell."  They all fell meekly silent.  "Now," the Reaper said more calmly, with a rather smug, toothy grin, "the pail and I have work to do.  Right, pail?"  He held Leaky up to look at him; the bucket looked surprised, then proud and gave a rattle of acknowledgement.  "You lot are on your own!"

With that, the Reaper-- and Leaky-- disappeared.  The five remaining beings were left looking at one another blankly.

Evil Bottles was the one to break the silence.  "He. . . he took my cages."  His already glaring eyes narrowed further.  "Ugh, and now I can't put them back, either!  That's not fair!"

However, Jiggywiggy's disciple-- Kazooie assumed that he was the mysterious "Auriel"-- had eyes only for his master.  Looking closer, Kazooie realized that he was trembling slightly as he stared at Jiggywiggy.  Then the disciple stumbled forward across the short distance that separated them and threw his arms around Jiggywiggy, pressing his broad golden head to the priest's chest.

"Master!" Auriel sobbed, clinging to him.  Jiggywiggy's face flushed to a deep bronze, but he embraced his disciple and laid his head against Auriel's.

"I'm all right, disciple," he murmured, stroking Auriel's back.

"Get a room," snapped Kazooie grumpily.

Evil Bottles apparently agreed with her evaluation of the mushy reunion.  "How touching," he said snidely.  "I never imagined that your little mouse of a disciple would come all this way, Jiggywiggy."  He turned to them and suddenly grinned before wedging his pitchfork between them and pushing Auriel away from his master.  "And now that I have both of you, there's no one left to protect the Crystal Jiggy.  I would just _love_ to see what would happen if Gruntilda got _her_ grubby hands on it!"

Auriel's face turned pale, almost to the tone of white gold.  "M-master, I-- I'm sorry, I left the Crystal Jiggy unguarded!  I locked the temple, but--"

"It's all right, Auriel," Jiggywiggy said, even as he glared at Evil Bottles.  "The Crystal Jiggy is useless without me."

"Hmm, if that's so," Evil Bottles mused, "maybe I won't be keeping you both here after all.  I could return _you_ to the temple, Jiggywiggy, and have you use the Jiggy for me."

"I would never do such a thing!" snarled Jiggywiggy.

"Oh no?"  Evil Bottles floated behind the disciple and grabbed him around the shoulders with one arm, then gave him a sound jab in the side with his pitchfork.  "I bet you would if your precious little disciple were in danger otherwise."  This time Jiggywiggy's face was the one to turn pale.

"Master!" whimpered Auriel-- who really was, Kazooie decided, a mouse of a disciple.  Then, to her amazement, the disciple's brown eyes hardened and he drew back his arm, pummeling E.B. in the stomach with his elbow.  When the spirit gasped and winced, Auriel broke free and ran back to stand protectively in front of Jiggywiggy.

"I won't let you use my master like that, you-- you bad mole!" Auriel declared.  "You'll never be able to control him!"

Evil Bottles stared at him, then the stare turned to a look that was quite close to sheer hatred.

"Don't contradict me, you useless little peon!" he snarled.  He raised his pitchfork and flew at Auriel, the points aimed at the disciple's midsection.

"Stop it!" Kazooie squawked, shocked that Evil Bottles-- who despite being Evil had never actually hurt anyone physically-- intended to stab the benign disciple.  Even she didn't think she could handle a speared Auriel on her conscience.  E.B. ignored her entirely, instead swooping straight for Auriel-- until Bottles spoke.

" _No_."

Evil Bottles froze, obviously not of his own will judging from the shock on his face.  Jiggywiggy in the meantime had spun around with Auriel in his arms and was standing hunched over the disciple with his own back exposed to Evil Bottles' pitchfork.  When the priest didn't feel the blow, he stood slowly, still holding his disciple against him.

"Hey, what're you-- let me go!" E.B. snapped at Bottles, struggling as if pinned in mid-air. _Bottles can control him!_ Kazooie realized. _At least when it comes to Jiggywiggy._

"They don't have anything to do with this," Bottles retorted, marching over and poking his doppelganger in the stomach with one claw.  "You had no right to kidnap Jiggywiggy, and you have no right to hurt Auriel after everything he's gone through to rescue his master!"  Auriel had already blushed to find himself in his master's arms, and now he turned completely copper.  "I'm not angry at them," Bottles finished.  Evil Bottles quit struggling and fell back, floating disconsolately in the air with his pitchfork drooping.

 _Bottles' **anger** is what controls him.  But E.B. is still here. . . so that means Bottles is still mad at me._   Kazooie's own shoulders slumped a little.

"Fine," Evil Bottles said in strangled voice.  "But you have to admit that I out-maneuvered you, getting to Jiggywiggy before you did."

"But you didn't count on me," Auriel said in a small voice, mumbling against Jiggywiggy's chest.  "Or on Bottles, did you?"

"Yeah!" Kazooie echoed.  "You said he wouldn't come-- but he did!"

E.B. gave them both a hunted look and drew back a little more.  "You can't blame me for that!  How was I supposed to know that he had the guts to come after you-- someone he _hates_?"

"I don't hate her!" retorted Bottles.  "Why would I bother coming all the way down here if I did?"

"Why am I still here if you don't?" countered the spirit.  He gave a broad grin when Kazooie's face fell.

 _He's right. . . Bottles must hate me if E.B. is still here.  He's still angry at me, and. . . and he must have come here just to taunt me, to tell me I'm never getting out of here--_   She realized that her thoughts were rambling and almost nonsensical, yet she found herself unable to stop them.  She looked miserably away from Bottles and E.B., her eyes coming to rest on Jiggywiggy and Auriel instead.  Jiggywiggy was looking at her carefully, then he gently set his disciple away from him and came over to Kazooie instead.

The priest crouched down to look her in the eyes and whispered, "He's lying.  If he was created from the mole's anger and need for revenge, the spirit will want to _keep_ you both angry at one another, even if it takes lies to do it.  When Bottles loses his anger, Evil Bottles will lose his power."

Kazooie blinked up into the large green eyes.  "You're. . . smarter than you look, Goldy."  She turned back to the two Bottles, trying to tell herself that the hateful ideas she had had weren't true.

 _Of course he doesn't hate me-- if he hated me, he would have left me here, just like Evil Bottles said he would.  E.B. was counting on that, but he was wrong-- he doesn't know what he's talking about!_   For the first time since she had arrived in Hell, Kazooie smiled.  Ignoring E.B., she turned to Bottles and swallowed hard.  The mole was looking at her blearily from behind his glasses.  _This is going to be hard,_ Kazooie thought.

"Thank you for coming to save me, Soil-- er, Bottles," she murmured in a low, clucky voice.  "I. . . I was wrong about you.  You _are_ a hero."

The look of shock on Bottles' face was an added bonus: she had never seen the mole's blue eyes so wide before.  "You. . . you were _wrong_?  You're admitting it?"

"Yeah, don't rub it in," mumbled Kazooie, surprised to feel herself smiling faintly.

"Of course she wasn't wrong!" Evil Bottles interrupted, rather frantically, Kazooie thought.  "You're a coward, not a hero-- and Kazooie knows it!"

"I know nothing of the sort!" announced Kazooie.  "You keep out of this!"  She turned back to Bottles, trying to ignore his doppelganger.  "Bottles, I, er. . . I'm. . . I'm sorry."

Bottles continued to stare, but then his face melted into a smile.  "I-it's okay."  He took a faltering step towards her.  "I'm sorry too.  It's. . . sort of my fault."

"It is _not_!" cried Evil Bottles, contradicting his earlier words.  "It's all the bird's fault!"

Bottles didn't even dignify him with a response; instead, he reached out a hand to Kazooie.  She gulped and looked down at it, then put the tip of her wing into his palm.

"Stop it!" protested E.B. with a shiver.  His voice wasn't nearly as loud as it had been a moment ago.

"Oh shut up," Auriel snapped at him abruptly.  "This is sweet!"

Kazooie felt her face flush hot under her feathers, but she tried to ignore the disciple. _It's working,_ she thought. _Evil Bottles is getting weaker the less angry Bottles is._   She braced herself, then pulled the mole closer by his hand.  Bottles gave a squeak of surprise as Kazooie wrapped her wings around him in an embrace.  Kazooie had never been that close to Bottles before; his body felt surprisingly warm and compact within her wings.  She rested her beak on his shoulder with a cluck.

"Ka. . . Kazooie," Bottles breathed.  Abruptly, he hugged her back with a tight squeeze that nearly winded her.  Kazooie heard a choked squawk from Evil Bottles off to the side, but she couldn't be bothered with him at the moment: she was too wrapped up in what was her first (and probably the last) time to be in anyone's arms.

"Awwww!" Auriel exclaimed after a moment.  Kazooie cringed and pulled away from Bottles abruptly; she could ignore E.B., but she didn't want the disciple cooing over her.  Bottles' face was the color of his doppelganger's-- but his doppelganger was nowhere in sight.

"H-hey, where'd he go?" the breegull cried, looking around wildly.

"He disappeared," Jiggywiggy responded.  He had stood and looked dignified and unapproachable once more.  "When you two embraced, he ceased to exist."

"You're not angry at me anymore," Kazooie said hesitantly to Bottles.

"N-no, I, erm. . . no."  The mole pulled off his glasses and polished them intently as his blush faded.

"You _are_ a hero!" Auriel enthused.  "You made him disappear!"

"You're one too, though," Bottles said with a little grin at Auriel as he put his glasses back on.  "I couldn't have gotten here without you."

"Which reminds me," Kazooie interrupted before anyone could bring up her practically cuddling Bottles, "how are we going to get _out_ of here?  Is your Reaper friend coming back for us?"

Bottles and Auriel looked at each other blankly.  "Uh. . . I don't think so," Bottles finally admitted.  "I think he'd had enough of us."

"Great," groaned Kazooie. She looked up at the mountain with the winding path.  "I guess you guys came in there?"

Bottles nodded.  "There's a staircase at the top, and it leads to the entrance."

Kazooie sighed.  "Time to start climbing, I suppose."

\--

To be continued


	8. Chapter 8

They did indeed start climbing, but they had hardly circled the mountain once before the first evil spirits intercepted them.  Kazooie wasn't sure what they were; as far as she could tell, they were minor demons judging from their small pitchforks.  At first, she merely swatted them away with her wings, but the farther the group advanced, the more spirits accosted them.

"Oww!" wailed Auriel.  "M-master, one of those _things_ poked me!"

"Oh shut up," Kazooie snapped over her shoulder-- right before giving a loud squawk herself when one jabbed her in the back. "Hey!"  She ducked into a recess in the mountain, hoping it would provide some shelter.

"I was afraid of this," Jiggywiggy lamented as he drew even with her, his arm protectively around his disciple's shoulders.  "They won't allow us to leave."

"But we got in without any trouble," Bottles protested, huddling into the recess with the rest of them.

"Gregg was with us then," Auriel said.

"Gregg?" Kazooie raised an eyebrow.  
  
Bottles explained, "He was the Reaper that brought us here.  I guess Auriel's right; they didn't want to interfere with him.  But," he said dismally, "they aren't showing us the same respect."

"Why am I not surprised?" Kazooie muttered.  "Well, you're the hero, Beetle Breath, so you'd better think of something."

The mole glared at her.  "Hey, I got rid of Evil Bottles, didn't I?  You can't expect me to do everything!"

"Calm down," Jiggywiggy scolded them, casting a green glare on both of them.  " _I_ have an idea."  The two quit arguing long enough to look at the priest, and he went on, "There is an old myth about a musician whose wife was abducted and taken to the underworld.  He came to rescue her, and to get back to the upper world safely, he lulled the demons by playing music."

"That would help if any of us were musicians," Bottles snapped, earning a glower from Auriel.

"Wait!"  Kazooie turned Bottles around and rummaged in the backpack.  " _I_ am."  She pulled out her horn, brandishing it proudly.

Bottles groaned.  "Oh dear."

"Erm, well," Jiggywiggy murmured, "I suppose we can try."

"Thanks for the votes of confidence," the breegull griped.  She had just brought the horn to her beak when Jiggywiggy interrupted her.

"There's one more thing.  You have to go first, to lead the way-- and you can't look back."

"Hunh?"  Kazooie blinked.  "Why would I look back?"

"At us, I mean-- to see if we are following."  Jiggywiggy narrowed his eyes at her warningly.  "In the myth, the man did not trust his wife to follow him, and when he looked back-- she was drawn back into the underworld."

"Well that's stupid," Kazooie blurted out.  " _He_ should have gotten punished, not her!  He should've been, I dunno, turned to a pillar of salt or something."

"That doesn't matter right now," Bottles said impatiently.  "Just don't look back!"

"Okay, okay."  Kazooie took a deep breath and steeped out of the recess.  Almost immediately, several of the spirits flew at her.  Kazooie lifted her horn again and gave a loud blast.  It didn't exactly lull the spirits, but they drew back a little with surprised expressions.

 _Here goes nothing,_ the breegull thought as she started walking forward, beginning to play a simple tune as she went.  To her amazement, they all seemed to be responding the same way, falling back from her as she went up the path unaccosted.  She looped the mountain once, twice, and still she was able to pass without trouble.

But then the doubts began to creep in.  Kazooie couldn't hear anything over the blatting of her own horn, so she had no way of knowing that the others _were_ following her. _Why would Bottles let **me** be the one to get us out, anyway?  If he wants to be a hero so bad, he would never stand by while **I** rescued us.  And Jiggywiggy's pretty full of himself too, for that matter-- would **he** follow me?  This could all be a trick-- they just wanted to get rid of me, and then they're going to escape on their own, laughing at me all the way. . . ._

They were the same runaway thoughts she had had when Evil Bottles was fighting to keep her angry, ideas that she knew were crazy but which she couldn't stop.  Before, she had assumed that E.B. had been affecting her mind in some way, but now she knew differently.

 _It's me,_ Kazooie thought as she forced herself to keep playing, to keep walking.  _I'm the one who doubts Bottles-- and everyone else too.  I'm. . . I'm the bad guy here._   Somehow, understanding that helped, and she continued up the mountain without being further tempted to look over her shoulder.

At the top of the mountain, the path ended, replaced by a steep staircase leading up to what appeared to be a door floating in midair.  Kazooie paused for breath, then started up the stairs while still playing her horn-- and while resolutely not looking down.  When she finally reached the top, she pulled the door open with one wing and peered nervously through it.  On the other side was, she was relieved to see, solid ground, and she stumbled through.

Kazooie had expected to find the normal, everyday world on the other side of the door, but instead she saw a dank, dreary place, some sort of cavern with a river winding through it.  She was standing on a stone outcropping overhanging said river; emerging from it was a dock to which a small boat was tied.

The breegull was so busy looking at her surroundings, she didn't even remember the others until she heard the door to Hell shut behind her.  Starting, she turned to see Bottles, Jiggywiggy, and the disciple there, and Hell safely shut away from them.

"You didn't look back," Bottles marveled, blinking his overly-magnified blue eyes at her.  "I. . . I thought you would."

Kazooie's face grew hot as she thought about how tempted she had been.  "Of course I didn't, Soil Brain!  That myth of Jiggs' is probably a crock anyway, but. . . but I wasn't going to take any chances."

The disciple gave her a horrified look.  "How-- how _could_ you be so disrespectful?"

"Because I'm more interested than getting out of here than stroking your master's considerable ego," she retorted, turning towards the boat.  Auriel spluttered angrily, but Jiggywiggy shushed him gently.

"Where does this river go, anyway?" Kazooie asked Bottles over her shoulder.  "This is the way you came in, right?"

"Yes."  Bottles came to stand beside her, squinting up the river.  "This river is called Mnemosyne.  Farther up, it turns into the Styx, where we started from.  But. . . . "  He ducked his head in an embarrassed way.  "But I don't know where to go from there.  We just sort of appeared there, because Gregg was with us."

Kazooie gestured broadly at the boat with one wing.  "Well, lead the way."  Bottles started toward the boat, then hesitated.

"You're sure?"  He gave her a tentative smile, obviously pleased.

The breegull dropped her wing and nodded.  "Yeah, go ahead.  You and that lovestruck disciple are the only ones who know the way, and I'll trust you way before him."

Bottles clambered into the middle of the boat, then to Kazooie's amazement, he held out a hand to her. _Like I need a guy's help to get in a stupid boat,_ she thought-- even as she put her wing in his palm to steady herself as she hopped in.  She perched in the bow while Jiggywiggy lowered himself into the stern, the disciple practically sitting in his lap.  Bottles pushed off from the dock with an oar and started awkwardly paddling up river.  Their progress was infuriatingly slow, but Kazooie managed to hold her tongue.

Finally they reached the place where Mnemosyne met with another river, which the mole called Lethe, and became Styx.  After they had traveled up Styx a short way, Bottles eased the boat up to another dock, even though the river continued onward and disappeared into the darkness ahead.

"This is where we started," Bottles explained.  "I don't know if we should get out here or keep following the river--"  
  
"Stop here for a moment," Jiggywiggy interrupted.  "I see something past the dock ahead."  He was already climbing out of the boat by the time Bottles had tied the boat to the dock; Kazooie squinted in the direction he moved and was able to see a faint glow coming from the opposite end of the dock away from the water.

"Come here!" the priest called back to them as he approached the glow.  "This is the way out."  
  
"I knew my master could get us out of here!" cooed Auriel as he scrambled out of the boat.  Kazooie rolled her eyes and followed, leaving Bottles to bring up the rear.

When she reached Jiggywiggy and Auriel, Kazooie found them looking down at a huge number of warp pads that stretched beyond them several rows deep.  The pads were giving off the glow Kazooie had seen before; in addition, each was marked with a symbol.  They looked vaguely familiar to Kazooie, but she didn't realize why until Jiggywiggy spoke again.

"These are the same symbols that mark the doors to the worlds opened by the Crystal Jiggy," the priest murmured.  "There must be a pad to connect with each world!"  He shook his head in amazement.  "To think that all of this exists, and I never knew-- I, who am charged with controlling the coming and going among worlds!"

"You couldn't have known, master," Auriel reassured him, clinging to Jiggywiggy's arm.  "And I'm sure that before now, no one has used them."

"He's probably right," Bottles added.  "L.O.G. probably put them here just as a precaution, in case. . . well, in case something like this happened."

"Who cares _how_ they got here?" Kazooie squawked impatiently.  "All that matters is that they can get us out of here."

"As the colloquialism goes, there's only one way to find out," Jiggywiggy told her.  He pointed at one of the pads.  "That is the symbol for Hailfire Peak-- which is, I assume, where we wish to go?"

"Yeah," muttered Kazooie.  "It'll save us some travel time, anyway.  So who's going first-- Jiggs?"

"All right, I will go," Jiggywiggy agreed, but Auriel interrupted him before he could move forward.

"Master, don't leave without me!" the disciple whimpered.  Jiggywiggy looked at him sympathetically and took his hands, squeezing them.

"Disciple, it might not be safe.  If anything happens to me, you three will know not to follow--"

"That's why I want to go with you!" Auriel all but wailed.  "If anything happens to you, I want it to happen to me too!  I. . . I don't want to lose you again."

Jiggywiggy looked as if he were about to protest again, but then to Kazooie's surprise, he kept silent.  Instead, he simply nodded and pulled the disciple close to him, then they stepped onto the warp pad together.  The two disappeared at the same time, dissolving into pixels which faded from view.  Kazooie and Bottles waited for a moment, but there was no sign that anything had gone wrong.  _Or, for that matter,_ Kazooie thought grimly, _no sign that everything went **right**._

"Well, shall we?" she finally clucked, craning her neck towards the warp pad.

"I. . . I suppose."  Bottles shoved his glasses farther up on his muzzle and gave a shaky breath.  "Uh. . . Kazooie?"

"Yeah, Goggles?"

Bottles' muzzle flushed.  "Can we go at the same time, like they did?  I don't want to lose you again."

Kazooie stared at him a minute.  "I. . . y-yeah, we can.  Here, hold still."  She opened Banjo's backpack, which Bottles was still wearing, and hopped in.  "This is the way it's usually done.  Lead on, Beetle Breath."

Bottles shouldered the pack more firmly and stepped into the warp pad.  To Kazooie, it felt just like all the hundreds of warps she had experienced in the past: a slightly disconcerting sense of motion as her pixels were transformed and reassembled.  When she stuck her head out of the pack again, she was once more surrounded by heat and flame-- but it was the familiar environment of Hailfire Peak.

"It worked!" Kazooie screeched as she leapt out of the pack.  They had appeared beside Sabreman's now long-abandoned tent; Jiggywiggy and Auriel were there too, though the disciple looked rather pale and shaken from the trip.  The sky was dark overhead, but Kazooie could easily see her companions in the lava's glow.

"I never thought I'd be pleased to see lava again," Jiggywiggy commented.  "Come, we should cross to the icy side and find the wedding party."

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Kazooie.  "I'd rather go home and sleep it off," she muttered to Bottles as they followed Jiggywiggy and Auriel up one  of the paths leading to the icy side.

"Banjo's counting on you," Bottles reminded her.  "And for that matter, _I_ certainly couldn't face him again without you."

"What'd you tell him anyway?  Not the truth, presumably."

"No," admitted the mole as they reached the nearest opening in the mountain, where the others had paused to survey the icy landscape dimly lit by a blue shine.  "I told him that. . . that we'd had a fight, and you ran off.  He came on here while I went to look for you."

"Urgh, all right."  Kazooie sighed.  "Is he ever going to be mad at me."

They found the wedding party easily enough, dining on dessert at a large table set up on the plain below Boggy's igloo.  Besides Banjo and Tooty, only Boggy's family were present; Tooty's mysterious disappearance from every game since Banjo-Kazooie had ensured that she hadn't made many friends over the years.  Even Kazooie hadn't seen her in a long time, and she seemed startlingly adult with her hair worn down around her shoulders.  She was still shorter than her brother, though.

"Bottles!" Tooty squealed, jumping to her feet as the four stragglers approached.  "Where _were_ you?  You missed dinner!"  She ran to the mole and squeezed his hands, then glanced at the breegull as an afterthought.  "You too, Kazooie."  Kazooie clucked at her rather jealously.

"We, uh, ran into Master Jiggywiggy," Bottles hedged.  "We all decided to come together."

"Oh!"  Tooty blinked as she noticed the priest and disciple for the first time.  "M-master Jiggywiggy!  I didn't expect you until tomorrow!  And I didn't realize you were bringing. . . friends."

"This is my disciple," Jiggywiggy announced, putting a hand on Auriel's shoulder.  "He is unfamiliar with the duties of officiating at a wedding, so I brought him to witness the proceedings."  Kazooie was amazed at how easily the priest lied.

As Kazooie had expected, there wasn't much food left after a dinner with the Boggy family, but Mrs. Boggy managed to scrape together a meal for the late-comers.  Afterwards, when the others were distracted with trying to find a place for Jiggywiggy and Auriel to spend the night, Banjo cornered Kazooie and Bottles.

"What _really_ happened?" the honey bear as them as sharply as he could manage.

"It was my fault," Kazooie admitted before Bottles could speak.  "I got so mad at Beetle Breath here, I went off to cool down-- and by the time I got back, you'd already gone.  So we went to the temple to ask the quickest way to get here, and His Holy Goldness decided to come ahead with us."

"Oh, okay."  Banjo seemed content with it all, except for one thing.  "But why's the disciple here?  I'm with Tooty; I thought he'd stay behind to look after the temple."

Kazooie raised an eyebrow.  " _You_ try prying him away from his master."

\--

To be continued


	9. Chapter 9

The Great Jiggywiggy found himself faced with the prospect of sleeping in a very small, very cold room that night-- and what's more, he would be sharing it with his disciple.  Sleeping quarters had already been prepared for the other guests in a network of rooms created from caves in the icy side of the mountain; apparently Boggy had at one point entertained the notion of starting an ice hotel.  Jiggywiggy and Auriel were left with what might have been the hotel's broom closet.

There was at least a bed, albeit a small one.  Mrs. Boggy had even been thoughtful enough to pile several blankets and comforters on it, remembering that unlike the polar bears, jiggy folk weren't used to sleeping in the cold and lacked the Boggy family's considerable padding of fat.  Jiggywiggy sat down on the edge of the bed to remove his sandals and outer robe, though the cold air made him shiver as soon as the heavy fabric was lifted from his shoulders. 

"Sir, I'm sorry to encroach on your privacy like this," Auriel mumbled as he knelt on the floor.  At first Jiggywiggy wasn't sure what he was doing; then the priest realized that the disciple actually intended to sleep there.

"Disciple. . . ."  When Auriel looked up, Jiggywiggy gestured to the bed.  "Sleep here.  It is large enough for us both."

Auriel stared up at him, momentarily shocked into paralysis.  "Y-you mean, with you?" he blurted out, his golden face darkening to a rich copper color.  Auriel stumbled to his feet without waiting for an answer, though he still hesitated, hanging back from the bed.

"Yes.  You've earned the right to rest in comfort," Jiggywiggy murmured as he got into his side of the bed.  "Or relative comfort at least."  _Did he really expect that I would make him sleep on this frozen ground?_ the priest wondered, lying down on his back and resolutely not looking at his disciple.

"Thank you, master," murmured Auriel.  Jiggywiggy heard him climb into bed, then the room was shrouded in complete darkness when the disciple extinguished the lantern Mrs. Boggy had given them.  Having never shared a bed with anyone in his life, Jiggywiggy felt awkward knowing that Auriel was so close to him.  He didn't dare move for fear of touching his disciple; it had felt far too good to hold Auriel earlier, to feel the disciple clinging to him and trembling in his arms.

But then, Jiggywiggy felt that trembling again, even with the small space between them.  For the first time since getting into bed, he realized how cold it was even with the blankets on top of them.  _Auriel must be shivering,_ the priest thought.  He couldn't bear the thought of the disciple suffering, yet he knew Auriel would never admit that he was uncomfortable.

Finally, Jiggywiggy struck on an idea.  "Disciple," he said into the darkness, as sternly as he could manage.

"Y-yes sir?"

"I am cold."

"Oh master, I'm sorry," Auriel apologized immediately.  "There aren't any more blankets, but. . . but I could lay my robes over you."

"No, don't get up."  Jiggywiggy hesitated, then took the plunge.  "Come lie closer to me.  Your body will keep me warm."

He heard Auriel give a little squeak, but the disciple was not one to refuse an order.  Jiggywiggy felt the bed shift as Auriel crept close beside him.  For a moment, Jiggywiggy wondered if he were making a mistake-- _He might not want to be near me at all!_ \-- but then Auriel wrapped his arms around his master and huddled against his chest.  Jiggywiggy put his own arms around the disciple, and after a moment, Auriel's trembling ceased as Jiggywiggy warmed him.

"Are you warm now, master?" Auriel asked softly.

"Yes."  Jiggywiggy leaned his head against his disciple's, closing his eyes in contentment.  "Thank you. . . Auriel."  The disciple shivered again.  _I never call him by his name. . . and yet today, I can't stop saying it. . . ._

"And thank you for coming to rescue me," the priest whispered.  
  
"I-I thought you'd be angry with me for leaving the temple," Auriel mumbled against his chest.  "But Bottles said that he needed my help to save you and the bird. . . and I started thinking that if I didn't go, I-- I might not ever see you again!"  His voice wavered, and he clung to Jiggywiggy all the harder.

"Of course I'm not angry with you."  Jiggywiggy reached up to stroke the smooth metal of Auriel's head.  "I must admit that. . . that the same thought occurred to me, that we would never meet again.  And then when I saw you, I. . . ."  He gave a faint, self-deprecating chuckle.  "It's utterly horrible, but I didn't care at all about the Crystal Jiggy being unguarded.  All that mattered was that you were there with me."

"M-master!" gasped Auriel.  "I. . . ."  He fell silent, then said in a rush, "I didn't care either!  I would have stayed there with you and never gone back!"

"Neither of us has to stay anywhere now," Jiggywiggy assured him.  "And tomorrow after the ceremony, we can return to the Crystal Jiggy."

"Yes, master," murmured Auriel, sounding disappointed that the conversation had returned to the Jiggy, their duty.  Jiggywiggy knew that this was where it should stay-- or better yet, that they should go to sleep-- but something else had occurred to him: an irrational desire to hear Auriel for once speak to him as an equal, not as the lowly disciple he proclaimed himself to be.

"Auriel-- call me by my name," he said impetuously.

"Y-you mean. . . Master Jiggywiggy?" Auriel stammered.

"No, just. . . just by my name."

"Jiggywiggy," the disciple whispered.  Jiggywiggy had always been a bit self-conscious about his name-- it was a rather silly moniker for the Master of the Crystal Jiggy-- but it sounded positively beautiful resonating from Auriel.

"Auriel," Jiggywiggy whispered in response, "my-- my golden angel!"

Auriel whimpered, "Mas-- er, J-jiggywiggy, you-- please, don't say such things!"

Jiggywiggy's heart clenched as he made himself ask, "Why shouldn't I?"

"Because!"  Auriel pressed his face to Jiggywiggy's chest and wailed, "Because I shouldn't love you, and-- and hearing you speak to me like this makes me love you even more!"

Jiggywiggy felt as if every ounce of gold in his body were melting.  "Auriel, you can love me all you like-- if you'll let me love you in return."  He fumbled in the dark to turn his stricken disciple's face up to his.  "Being apart from you has made me realize just what you are to me-- more than my disciple, but my. . . my friend.  My beloved."

"J-jiggywiggy. . . ."  Auriel trembled, apparently struggling with himself, then he blurted out, "I-I want you to love me, I do!  I always believed that it was wrong, but I've loved you anyway, since the first time I came to the temple."

"It isn't wrong," Jiggywiggy assured him.  "Believe me, I. . . I've thought about it, more often than I can say.  It couldn't be wrong for me to care for you more than I care for myself; such love is a blessing from the Crystal Jiggy."  He bent his head and gently pressed his face against Auriel's in the jiggy version of a kiss, passing energy between them just as they were able to absorb food and liquid and air through their golden surfaces.  Auriel trembled against him, then gripped Jiggywiggy's shoulders tightly as he kissed him back, hard.  Jiggywiggy wished that he could see his disciple, but in a way, the darkness made the sensation of his kiss even more precious.

Finally Auriel drew back from the kiss and laid his head against Jiggywiggy's shoulder.  Jiggywiggy held him tightly and murmured, "When we return to the temple, I will begin to teach you something new: how to control the Crystal Jiggy."

"Y-you're sure, master?" Auriel asked, automatically falling back into his deferential mode of speaking.  "You. . . you think I'm ready?"

"You have been ready for a long time," replied Jiggywiggy.  He fit his head against Auriel's, interlocking the bumps and notches of their heads so that they fit together closer than any embrace.  "From now on, you will share all of my knowledge, my dear."

"Yes, master. . . Jiggywiggy."  Auriel pressed his head against Jiggywiggy's lovingly.  The disciple didn't speak again, and after a moment, Jiggywiggy realized that he had fallen asleep.  The priest held Auriel against him, vowing that they would never be separated again.

\--

Kazooie fully expected something terrible to happen before the wedding was over; nothing would have surprised her, from Gruntilda sweeping in on a broom to L.O.G. pausing the whole ceremony-- but nothing _was_ what surprised her.  Nothing happened at all.

The happy couple of Tooty and Moggy left for a honeymoon in Cloud Cuckooland  (which convinced Kazooie that their mental state was far from healthy); afterwards, the guests said goodbye to the Boggy family and began to journey back to their own homes.  Banjo offered to give Jiggywiggy and his disciple a ride, but the priest refused after a suspicious look at the Banjo-mobile.  Instead, they set off on foot, both looking oddly happy all the same.

The ride back to Bottles' house was a little awkward for Kazooie.  Banjo talked obliviously from time to time about the wedding or how much he'd miss Tooty-- despite her not having set foot in a game in years.  Even Bottles joined in with his declaration that Tooty and Moggy were perfect for one another.  Only Kazooie remained completely silent, and no one seemed to notice.

When they finally arrived at Bottles' burrow, the mole clambered out of the car, then paused.  "Uh, why don't you two come in for tea?  It's been a rather long ride."

"We'd love to," Banjo said before Kazooie could even think of declining, and soon she was back in the place where the whole trouble had started a day and a half ago.

There was a difference in Bottles this time, however.  He looked around at the clutter in his burrow as if seeing it for the first time, then he started straightening up in an embarrassed sort of way.  Banjo and Kazooie sat down at the table to wait-- until the honey bear's stomach started growling.

"Uh, Bottles, do you need some help with the tea things?" Banjo asked pointedly.

"Oh!  That's right, tea!"  Bottles shook his head and put down the dust rag he had been applying to his bookshelves.  "No, I can get everything; just a moment."

He disappeared into the kitchen, but Kazooie muttered, "I don't trust him not to start cleaning out the fridge.  I'd better go help."  Banjo gave her an extremely surprised look but nodded as she hopped down off her chair and trotted after Bottles.  She wasn't sure herself why she was going to help: maybe as a tangible way of apologizing for all the trouble she'd caused.

"Hurry up, Soil Brain!" Kazooie snapped as she poked her head in the kitchen.  "Banjo's about to chew his own leg off out there."

Bottles gave a startled squeak and nearly dropped the loaf of bread he was carrying.  "Hold your Horstachios, Chicken Legs," he retorted.  "Things are in a bit of a mess in here."

"I noticed."  Kazooie looked wryly at the dirty dishes and empty crisp packages lying around, then she hopped up on the counter to watch Bottles spreading the bread with peanut butter-- apparently the only unspoiled condiment he had left.  "Just don't start cleaning it up until _after_ we've eaten.  Uh, although. . . ."  She struggled at the attempt to be nice.  "I'm glad you feel like doing something about it."

Bottles looked at her suspiciously through his glasses, then nodded.  "If you and Banjo want to stick around and help--"  
  
"Ohhh no," Kazooie squawked.  "I don't clean up at _our_ house-- I'm not about to start cleaning yours!"

The mole chuckled as if he had expect that.  "Edna always--"  He broke off abruptly, his muzzle coloring to the tip of his nose.  Kazooie had never heard him mention the name "Edna" before, but she had a pretty good idea of who Bottles meant.

"Edna always _what_?" she mumbled, looking down at her own scrawny legs.

Bottles was quiet another moment, then he said with a sort of self-effacing laugh, "Edna always made me clean up after myself too, so I'm used to doing it on my own."

"Really?"  Kazooie looked up at him again and blinked, having expected instead some comment about the perfection of Bottles' ex-wife.  "I mean. . . I always thought she was a lot. . . different from me."

"She was."  Bottles' nose was still slightly pink, and he kept his eyes on the sandwiches.  "The insults were a lot more subtle.  At least you give me a chance to fight back."

"And that's what got us into trouble in the first place."  Kazooie startled herself by giving a clucky chuckle.

"I suppose so."  Bottles finally looked at her again, and she looked back.  "I like you better," the mole blurted out of nowhere.  Kazooie didn't know what he meant until he went on, "You-- I don't think you'd leave me."

Kazooie had to make a conscious effort to keep her beak from dropping open.  "Erm, well. . .  no.  I wouldn't.  You didn't leave _me_ down there, after all-- and this place isn't as bad as Hell."

"Not anymore."  They smiled at each other awkwardly, and Kazooie wondered, _What next?_ then immediately thought, _Who cares?  He likes me better than Curlers and Coffee, and that's enough for me._

"You can have your sodding pail back."  Kazooie cringed at the high-pitched voice. _So that's what's next: the Grim Reaper walks in on us._   She turned to find that the Reaper had appeared in front of the fridge, seemingly out of nowhere, with Leaky still clutched in one bony hand.  The pail gave a mournful little rattle.

"Uh, he's not _my_ pail, Gregg," Bottles protested.  "Just take him back to the beach--"

"I don't have bloody time for that!" Gregg snapped.  "Unlike _you_ layabouts, _I_ have to earn my blooming keep."

Kazooie eyed Leaky, who looked utterly miserable; his big blue eyes were watery.  "What, the bucket didn't pull his weight or something, Bone Daddy?"

Gregg gritted his teeth and replied so reluctantly, Kazooie began to wonder if his gruffness were all an act.  "Er, no, the pail did a fine job.  It's just--"

"Gregg not want Leaky anymore!" wailed the bucket.  "Leak still fixed and everything-- didn't lose a single soul!  B-but--"

"Quiet!" the Reaper said desperately, giving him a hard rattle.  "It's just-- I've got my bloody image to think of!"

"Bit too late for that, Shorty," put in Kazooie.

Gregg gave her an eyeless glare and went on, "I can't keep going around carrying a beach pail, for L.O.G.'s sake!  You're too. . . erg, too bloody cute," he finished in a mutter.

"Uh, look, Leaky," Bottles said awkwardly, "you can stay here for awhile, and I'll take you back to the beach in a few days.  See, I need something to carry these sandwiches in, right now!"  Leaky sniffled and looked at the sandwiches.  "They're peanut butter," Bottles added cajolingly.

"A-all right," the bucket finally agreed.  "Leaky stay and help nice mole."  Gregg set Leaky down on the counter and half turned away.  
  
"Uh. . . g'bye, pail," the Reaper mumbled.

"Come visit Leaky at beach?" the bucket asked hopefully.

". . . Yeah, next time I get a holiday."  Gregg gave him an awkward pat on the handle, muttered, "Take care, pail," and disappeared.

"Is he really gone?" Kazooie asked suspiciously.

Leaky sighed.  "All gone."  He turned his wide-eyed gaze to Bottles.  "Mole be Leaky's friend now!"

"Lucky you," Kazooie chuckled at Bottles as she scooped up the sandwiches and dumped them into Leaky.  "Although he does make a good lunch pail."

"You go take those in to Banjo-- er, the big teddy bear," Bottles ordered the bucket.  Having a job seemed to have cheered Leaky up, because he hopped down off the counter and bounced into the other room.

"Too lazy to carry them yourself, eh, Beetle Breath?" clucked Kazooie.  Bottles turned to her with such a determined look on his face, she was sure he was about to let her have it.  Instead, he grasped her head with both hands and planted a hard kiss on her beak.

"Shut up and kiss me, Kazooie," Bottles ordered.  For quite possibly the first time in her whole life, Kazooie did what the mole told her to, without a single word of complaint.

\--

The End


End file.
